Welcome To Fair Help Center
by Osiris's Consort
Summary: Asylum AU. "It's not as dark as you think. Now, at last, a new story can begin." Pairings: CloTi, Zerith, Yuffentine
1. Locked Doors

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter One: Locked Doors_

_(As per usual, I don't own this. Wrap your minds around the dang concept.)_

Tifa stared up at the building. Surrounded by a twenty-foot iron fence, made of sparkling white bricks, it was a fortress. It was intimidating, it was terrifying.

It was an asylum._ Fair Help Center_.

It was her new home.

Just to qualify—Tifa wasn't crazy. She was going to work as an attendant there. It didn't require as much schooling as a full medical degree (_A/N: I have no idea if that's true, probably not, but it suits my story. This isn't Midgar, but I guess it's not Earth, either._) Tifa wanted to _help_ people. And this was the best way she knew how, the only way she could think to suit her. And suit her it did.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.

A middle-aged receptionist looked up from her computer and raked Tifa with her eyes. "Miss Lockhart, I presume?" she asked. Tifa nodded, her hands shaking quietly. The receptionist smiled and beckoned Tifa closer. "It's all right, dear. Here, come here—take this. It's your pass card—it'll open all the doors you're qualified to open as a new attendant. Now, see that hall on your left? Good. Go down that, take the second right, and keep walking until you find Aerith. Young thing, in a pink dress, long brown braid and bangs. You'll be working together, she'll explain everything." The receptionist smiled up at Tifa who was blinking and nodding slowly, processing and cataloging the information in her mind. "We take things quickly here, darling. I hope you don't mind. Don't worry—you'll catch on soon enough. Good luck!" She called to Tifa's back as the young woman walked away.

A pretty young woman in a pink dress smiled at her as Tifa walked down the hall. "Aerith Gainsborough," she greeted Tifa, extending a hand. Tifa shook it, smiling, as Aerith continued. "I'm the only attendant covering this wing. We haven't got many patients here, but having two attendants makes it so much easier." She gave Tifa a relieved smile. "C'mon, I'll show you the patients." She pulled on Tifa's hand, tugging her down the hall.

At the end of the hall, a locked glass door awaited them. Without opening it, Aerith began to point and name all the people gathered within. "That one there in the corner, that's Vincent Valentine." Tifa stared at the man. He was curled into a ball in the corner, covering his body and the lower half of his face with a crimson blanket. His long, dark hair was hanging all over the place, obscuring all of his face save for one glowing amber eye. "To use crude terms, he's a cutter. His family sent him in after he attempted suicide. And her," Aerith indicated a young woman with short black hair, rolling around laughing for no apparent reason. "She's Yuffie Kisaragi. She's irrepressibly happy. It might not seem like a bad thing, but—well, just before she was admitted, her father died. Yuffie just laughed." Tifa stared at Aerith, who continued to talk as if what she had just said was perfectly normal. "And those three silver-haired guys muttering to each other—that's Loz, Yazoo, and Kadaj. For some reason, they're convinced that they're brothers and all they ever talk about is their mother." The three men suddenly turned simultaneously to stare at Aerith and Tifa before returning, just as abruptly, to their conversation. Tifa forced a short, startled laugh.

"Come this way," Aerith called, pulling Tifa back down the hall. She paused momentarily before a heavily locked door. Curious, Tifa stepped closer to it and listened carefully. Slowly, she began to make out faint sounds of banging, crashing and hysterical screaming. Her face paled and Tifa backed away from the door rapidly. Aerith also paced backwards a few steps to stand next to the other young woman. "In there, that's Sephiroth. I don't know what's wrong with him, but if he gets out, he'll kill us. He'll kill anyone." The women looked at each other and shivered. Aerith continued, "We don't have to deal with him much—Dr. Fair takes care of him personally. Most of the time, he's just kept shut in there." The air around them became much easier as the two girls hurried away from the door.

They passed several open doors labeled with patients' names, which Aerith confirmed to be their sleeping quarters. Finally, they came to a single closed door. Aerith sighed. "And, of course, we can't forget Cloud." Knocking lightly on the door, she called gently, "Mr. Strife? Cloud? May I come in?"

A silken, muffled voice came from within. "Fuck off."

Aerith grinned at Tifa and waved her pass card over the door's lock. Tifa lifted an eyebrow at her. "That's as close to 'yes' as you'll ever get from Cloud." The lock clicked, and Aerith slid the door open.

Aerith stepped in first, and as Tifa waited to enter, she heard the voice again, only unmuffled this time. "Hey, don't you understand the meaning of 'fuck off,' you dumb slu—" Tifa snorted and moved to glare at the man inside.

Her artfully concocted scowl melted away as she stared at the boy lounging artfully on the bed.

His golden hair was glowing and luminescent as sunlight from the window filtered through the spikes. Even glaring at her, his pale face was almost impossibly beautiful. And, exquisitely splayed out over his narrow bed, partially masked by thick black clothes, his toned body inevitably drew her gawking gaze. But it couldn't hold her eyes long from his huge, cerulean blue eyes, glowing even in the brightness of the room.

She fought to hold her focus as Aerith began speaking in her sweet, soothing voice. "Cloud, why aren't you in the group room with everyone else?" She chided him gently.

Cloud rolled his beautiful cerulean blue eyes. "Because it's boring as hell in there with all those basket cases." Tifa's eyes narrowed. Beautiful, maybe, but rude as hell. _And crazy,_ she reminded herself.

"Well, you're just going to have to endure it."

"No."

"Ex-_cuse_ me?" For the first time Tifa had heard, a little bit of commanding bitchiness one would expect from an asylum attendant crept into Aerith's honey-sweet voice.

"I said no, you stupid golddigger!"

"Don't you _dare_ call Miss Gainsborough that!" The new, commandingly male voice ordered from the door. Tifa turned and saw a tall, black-haired man in a white coat glaring at Cloud. The blonde man sighed, rolled his eyes again, and turned away from the three others to stare out the window. The black-haired doctor frowned. "Get your ass into the group room _now _or I'm gonna put it there, Strife."

Cloud stood and marched out of the room with as much dignity as possible for a person in his situation. The tall doctor shook his head, looking disappointed, and lightly rested his hand on Aerith's back. "Are you all right, Miss Gainsborough?" He asked, voice quiet and smooth. Aerith nodded twice and looked up at him with wordless adoration. The doctor grinned affectionately back and turned to Tifa. "Hello there!" he called cheerfully. "You must be Miss Tifa Lockhart. I'm Dr. Zack Fair, founder of Fair Help Center. Pleased to meet you." Grinning, he held out a hand for her to shake.

Tifa lightly grasped it and shook, slightly dazed. Dr. Fair smiled approvingly at her and sighed. "Terribly sorry, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got an appointment with Seph, and I'm all stretched and ready, I can't put it off."

Aerith gasped and eagerly put in, "Can't we watch and talk afterward? It's probably good for Tifa to see a session, just so she knows…how he is. Please, Dr. Fair? It's group time for our patients, we really have nothing else to do." She pouted out her lips a tiny bit and looked up at Dr. Fair from underneath her brown bangs.

His lips twitched into a tiny smirk before he relented. "Fine…if it's all right with you, Miss Lockhart?" He gave Tifa a questioning look. She only smiled and shrugged. "All right, then…"

As Tifa followed Zack and Aerith out the door, she saw him lean closer to her and whisper in her ear. She just barely managed to catch, "Please, Miss Gainsborough…Call me Zack."

A smile twitched on Tifa's lips as she followed them.

"This way, this way, Tifa!" Aerith called, looking ten thousand times happier than anyone Tifa had ever seen. Tifa followed her into the door next to Sephiroth's, casting a final worried glance at Dr. Fair, who smiled reassuringly and tugged off his white lab coat.

She entered a very dark room, surfeited with recording equipment, video cameras, and several comfortable-looking chairs. Turning towards Sephiroth's room, Tifa was met with a large glass wall. For a second she panicked before realizing it was one-way glass that was glass on one side and a mirror on the other. She relaxed.

And stared at the man on the other side of the wall.

His long, white hair hung down past his waist. His face was hollow and wasted away, his body thin and worn with constant agony. His fists and arms were raw from continuous beating, and his face carried a thick layer of spotty stubble. All pretenses of sanity and hygiene were gone from him. His eyes were dark with rage, pain, and madness.

Tifa shivered. Aerith patted her on the arm. "He scares us all. Except for Dr. Fa—Zack."

As they watched, the door opened, and Dr. Fair walked in. He was naked from the waist up, showing off an amazingly muscular build. His frame was thicker and heavier than Cloud's, laden with muscle and self-assured strength. He slammed the door quickly behind him, and muscles rippled in his arms.

Next to Tifa, Aerith squeaked. The dark-haired woman shot her a look, which Aerith returned with a wide-eyed, utterly innocent stare. Tifa sighed and settled into a chair to watch.

Almost instantly, Sephiroth charged at Dr. Fair, screaming at the top of his lungs. Tifa gritted her teeth against the sound. Dr. Fair stood still, quite confident in his obvious strength, and waited for the pale-haired man to reach him. As Sephiroth reached the doctor, grossly long fingernails extended like claws, Dr. Fair seized his hands and threw him backwards over his hip.

Aerith sighed breathily, and Tifa rolled her eyes.

Dr. Fair held Sephiroth face down on the ground, his thick arms bulging with straining muscle, fighting to hold the thin man in place. Quick as thought, his left hand flashed to his back pocket and pulled a syringe out. He stuck it swiftly into the back of Sephiroth's arm, and slowly the thin man's howls quieted, and his struggling ceased. Dr. Fair slowly stepped away from him, and the man remained on the floor.

Pulling some restraining straps off the far wall, the doctor fitted them around the man's wrists, tightening them securely before pulling Sephiroth into a sitting position. His broad chest gleaming with a fine sweat, Zack stepped back a bit, smiled at the glass wall, and sat on the ground in front of Sephiroth.

Aerith's delighted squeal was so loud Tifa thought her eardrums were going to rupture. She leaned to the other woman and whispered, "How do you know he wasn't smiling at _me_?" Aerith gasped, horrified, and looked like someone had just crushed her soul into a thousand tiny pieces. Tifa sighed. "I'm only _kidding_, Aerith."

Dr. Fair settled onto the ground just out of Sephiroth's reach, his perfect musculature rippling and making Aerith practically salivate all over her chair. "So, Seph, how was your day?"

_A/N_

_Woo-hoo! I'm finally writing a FFVII fanfic! Aaagh, I've been dying to do one for so long, and I never had the inspiration. But here it is! Alas, alack! I hope it doesn't suck too much._

_Anyway. Not a whole lot to explain on this chapter. Any questions, message me or post it in a review, I suppose? Because I f**king love reviews. The damn things rock my socks. And actually help me write faster. Anyway. R & R, please! I love you all!_


	2. Bleeding Temptation

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter Two: Bleeding Temptation_

_(Hey, smarts, you guessed it. I didn't own it last chapter, and I DON'T OWN IT NOW!)_

He hid in the corner of that boring-ass group room and panted.

He wanted a moment alone. Just to relax. But, of course, that wouldn't be permitted.

"Hiiii, Cllllouuudddyyyy…" Yuffie trilled his name out, making him wince. "Whatcha hidin' forrr?"

Without turning, Cloud twisted his head so he could stare at her. "Yuffie, did you see that woman with Aerith earlier? Did she come here?"

Yuffie was so happy that Cloud actually responded she hopped a full circle around the room before coming back to him. "Cloudy, you silly! Don't you pay attention to _any_thing? She's probably the new attendaaant. Aerie will introduce her sooooon, I bet." Mercifully, she then let Cloud to bother Vincent.

He stretched out on his back on the floor, staring up at the featureless white ceiling. This place was supposed to make people _saner,_ right?! Then what the hell was Zack thinking, bringing in some new attendant with a body men literally went _crazy_ for?! He'd only seen her for a few seconds, and then only in passing while Zack yelled at him, but he saw in those seconds how attractive she was. Her legs were long—endlessly long, and pale, and sexy, and _damn_—her hips were wide and soft, and his fingers twitched, aching to curl around them. Her stomach was flat but her chest was the opposite, and Cloud was practically drooling all over himself in the corner of the room.

Three simultaneous cries of "Mother!" rudely tore Cloud out of his rather pleasant daydreams. Groaning quietly, he rolled over onto his back and levered himself up into a sitting position.

Aerith and the new girl walked into the room as Kadaj and his gang attacked Aerith's knees. "Mother, Mother," they wailed. She smiled and patted their heads affectionately before twisting to give the new chick an apologetic look. The other woman just arched a single dark eyebrow and shrugged. Grinning, Aerith pried her three 'children' off of her feet.

"All right, that's enough, boys." Still sobbing out 'Mother,' they released her ankles and backed away to sit at her feet. Aerith clapped her hands, commanding the attention of every person in the room. "Everybody? Vincent…Cloud…? Thank you…Everyone, I'd like you to meet Tifa. Tifa, this is Vincent, Yuffie, Kadaj, Loz and Yazoo…you've already met Cloud…Tifa's going to be working here with me from now on! Isn't that great?"

Yuffie screamed with enthusiasm.

Vincent didn't react.

Cloud scowled and turned his face to the wall.

Kadaj and his gang looked vaguely confused. "But…" he began. "There's only one Mother…"

Tifa grinned and squatted down in front of him. "I'm Auntie Tifa," she said brightly. Kadaj stared at her, his eyes going huge. His mouth worked soundlessly for a few moments. Tifa smiled wider at his silly, adorable expression. "Auntie," she repeated. "Sister of Mother." Kadaj, still wide-eyed, turned to Aerith, who shrugged, smiling, and nodded.

Kadaj smiled as all three men joyfully cried "Auntie!" and tackled Tifa in a series of enthusiastic hugs. She laughed, startled, as they all babbled nonsense and cuddled her. They were impossible not to love—it was like getting attacked by three happy puppies. Giggling, she tickled the men—all of whom were probably older than her—and laughed as they called "Auntie, Auntie!" in sweet, singsong voices.

A sudden sour presence instantly sobered the mood. Looking up, Tifa found Cloud's ice blue eyes glaring coldly at her. She cringed instinctively for a moment before realizing Cloud's anger wasn't directed at her, but at the three men in her arms. "Get the hell off of her," he snarled, his voice low and dark.

Loz, Yazoo and Kadaj shot to their feet, standing between Cloud and their new Auntie. Aerith instantly reached in and dragged Tifa backwards.

"What's going on?" Tifa whispered, panicked. The air between Cloud and Kadaj's gang was growing increasingly intense, and low growling noises were emanating from several throats.

Aerith sighed and wrung her hands. "You handled it rather well, the whole Mother thing—I don't know why they chose me to be their Mother, I guess because I'm their attendant, taking care of them all the time. It was a good call on the Auntie thing. But, they're horrifically protective of me and now, apparently, you. And Cloud—I don't know what his problem here is, but if this goes any farther, it's going to get nasty."

"Kadaj…" Tifa began to call, but before she could continue, the silver-haired man was already speaking.

"Stay away from our Auntie!" He protested in a shrill, childish voice, and shoved Cloud's shoulder.

The atmosphere exploded instantly from tense to insane.

"_Don't fucking touch me!_" Cloud screeched, seizing Kadaj's still-outstretched hand. Dragging the thinner man forward, he drove his right fist into Kadaj's stomach before flipping him over his shoulder in the same movement. The other two men, in instant realization of their brother's danger, dove in at Cloud, shrieking in outrage.

The blonde man was out of their path before Tifa could even see where he'd gone. He appeared again, four feet farther back, his right hand reaching over his shoulder. His fist closed, and Cloud lowered it to stare at his empty palm, as if he'd been expecting something to be there. But then he shook his head and curled his fingers into a fist, sinking into a crouch before his opponents.

In the next heartbeat, he was lunging forward, low to the ground, arms outstretched to swipe Loz and Yazoo's feet out. The smaller, quicker Yazoo jumped just in time to avoid the strike, but the heavier Loz went down face-first, hard. Kadaj was directly in Cloud's trajectory, and ready to take him on, but Cloud's feet abruptly came down, flinging his body back the other direction again.

Kadaj followed, twisting through the air in pursuit. Yazoo remained where he was, wiping Loz's bloody nose and remaining close to his Mother and Auntie. As Cloud's feet came down to take a stand, he and Kadaj collided violently, locking in a close combat of fists and feet and teeth.

Cloud's fist collided with Kadaj's left eye, leaving what would be a beautiful black eye the next day.

Kadaj's knee came cleanly into Cloud's stomach, knocking all of the blonde's breath out.

Yazoo was still dabbing at Loz's mess of a nose with tissues Aerith handed to him.

Vincent, in the corner, hadn't moved, but merely watched the fight unblinkingly with his single amber eye.

Yuffie was laughing hysterically watching the two men beat each other.

But then Tifa had Cloud's hair in her fist, and Kadaj's shoulder in her other hand, and she was dragging the two men apart. Kadaj relaxed and backed away as soon as he felt his Auntie's touch, but Cloud continued to fight, still thrashing out with his fists at the retreating Kadaj. So Tifa dragged him backwards by his hair, shoving him up against the wall and holding him there with his head.

Rapping the back of his skull against the wall, Tifa pinned a snarling Cloud there with her body. "Look, Chocobo head. I don't know what your deal is or why you decided to go nutso _now_, on poor Kadaj, but listen good. You keep your hands to your damn self from now on, hear? Because however hot shit you think you are, I guarantee, I'm just as god-damn hot." Finally, she released him.

Seeming exhausted, Cloud slumped down to the floor, lying in a shuddering heap. He curled slowly into a fetal position, trembling lightly, whimpering softly.

"Don't fucking touch me," he whispered. "Don't touch me…"

"I'm so sorry you had to be a part of that, Miss Lockhart."

Dr. Fair's gaze was extremely apologetic as he stared at her over his desk. Tifa shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling like a grade schooler called into the counselor's office again. Her pale fingers tightened on the wood next to her thighs.

"It's perfectly fine, Dr. Fair. I knew I'd be experiencing such occurences when I chose this line of work. Really, I should be apologizing for my rude behavior, sir. I shouldn't have treated a patient like that," she stammered out, overly formal in her nervousness.

And then, to her surprise, Zack Fair leaned back in his chair and burst into roaring laughter.

"Oh, Miss Lockhart, don't be worried. If anything, you handled that situation in the best possible way. Cloud's difficult, and we all know that. Miss Gainsborough is the only one who still tries to treat him gently…I, myself, would have done the exact same thing you did."

With an abrupt sigh, the mirth completely left Dr. Fair's face, and he leaned forward over his desk, resting his head in his palms. His serious eyes levelled directly on Tifa. "I don't believe Aerith has explained Cloud's condition to you. Quite simply, he can't stand human touch. Anyone who touches him, he'll severly beat and injure. And afterwards, he'll have a nervous breakdown—sometimes minor, sometimes more severe. We don't know exactly how he came down with this condition, but we're just trying to adapt him to human touch again."

Tifa nodded, unsure of how to respond. With another sigh, Zack leaned back into his chair, exuding calm and confidence. "I must say, Miss Lockhart, I liked your performance today. I think you'll make a fine addition to the Fair Help Center."

She blushed lightly and looked down at her hands. Dr. Fair smiled. "You can go now, Miss Lockhart. And, if you see her, would you send Miss Gainsborough to me? Tell her I need her for just a minute."

Tifa paused to arch a single dark eyebrow at the doctor before bounding out of the room. She moved quickly down the hall to where Aerith was sorting patients into their rooms for the night.

"Aerith, Dr. Fair wants you."

The brunette's face lit up with sudden excitement. Before Tifa could fully track the movement, Aerith was out the door and down the hall.

She closed the door to Zack's office slowly, turning with a coy look on her face. Dr. Fair's face split with a sudden grin, and he leaned back in his chair, his eyes roving over Aerith.

"Hello, Miss Gainsborough."

She lifted an eyebrow and returned a coy grin.

"Hello, Zack."


	3. Burning Dreams

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter Three: Burning Dreams_

_(If I owned FFVII, there would be a thousand movies, not just one, and they would all just be different angles of camera staring at Cloud. And CloTi makeout scenes would be canon. Why aren't theyyy?!)_

"First day at work, so you get the easy job," Aerith sang cheerfully, dragging Tifa down the hall. "Group therapy!"

They halted outside the clear sliding doors. Aerith, pausing, turned to seize Tifa by the shoulders, shaking her sternly, like a mother cat chastising her young. "Listen. Group therapy is easy because the only real objective is to get them to talk. Control Yuffie and the brothers—don't let them just maul you the whole time. Try to get Vincent to talk, even though you'll have a hell of a time just getting him to stand up. And do not—_do not_—let anybody touch Cloud.

"But your biggest job is just to make them feel safe. Make them feel comfortable. They'll never talk to you otherwise. They have to understand that you _do not_ judge. They have to be able to tell you anything."

Aerith glared up at the taller woman. It was a ridiculous picture, but her eyes burned, and Tifa smiled and nodded in appreciation.

Aerith dashed off, already on her way back to Doctor Fair. A chuckle, a sigh, a steeling breath and Tifa slid the door to the group room.

Four human bodies collided with hers instantly. Yuffie was tangled around her torso, Kadaj had her knees locked in a death grip, and Loz and Yazoo had each attached themselves to one of her arms. Despite several seconds of valiant effort, Tifa toppled under their combined weight.

The men had already picked up their chorus of "Auntie, Auntie," and Yuffie giggled animatedly as the older woman struggled out from beneath the pile of human flesh. After finally extricating herself from the grip of her admirers, Tifa began sorting them into four of the seven chairs set in a circle in the room. After a period of much wheedling, cooing, begging, and head-patting, the last of her four friends was finally seated, and Tifa went in pursuit of her other two patients.

She found Vincent curled into the same corner as he had been the previous she'd seen him, covered by the same crimson blanket, the same amber eye glowing through his hair—as if he hadn't moved for the last few hours.

Tifa went to kneel by him. His only acknowledgment was the subtle refocusing of the single eye onto her face. Smiling her best gentle, open, look-at-me-you-know-you-want-to-confess-your-woes smile, she held out her hand to the thin man. "C'mon," she cooed, keeping her voice soft and reassuring. "It's all right. I won't hurt you. I'm here to help you, Vincent."

From behind the blanket, there came the faintest of hoarse whispers. "Please…hurt me…"

Tifa very carefully let her smile slip, not betraying any of the horror she felt. "Why would you want to be hurt, Vincent?"

The amber eye narrowed. "Body pain makes heart pain go away."

Her smile twitched slightly. She hated, hated, hated people who wallowed in self-pity. But she kept her voice gentle and soft, mindful of what Aerith had told her—it wasn't her job to judge these people, it was to help them. "Well, I'm not going to hurt you, and just sitting there isn't going to help it go away, is it? So how about you get up and talk, okay? Come on, please?" She wheedled insistently.

Vincent held her gaze for a few seconds. Tifa kept her eyes soft and open, letting him explore her thoughts to his satisfaction. They stared into each other for exactly seventeen seconds before Vincent blinked and looked away. Not meeting her eyes again, he extricated a hand from his blanket and held it out to her.

Breaking into a brilliant smile, Tifa pulled the thin man to his feet and led him across the room to the circle of chairs. Easing him down into the fifth chair, Tifa let him cling to her hand, as he didn't seem inclined to let go. Once she had him seated, Tifa let Yuffie take over the duty of hand-holding, since the small woman had already climbed into Vincent's lap and was petting his hair, cooing happily.

Tifa stared at them for one moment, wondering. Vincent didn't reciprocate the young woman's touches, but he didn't pull away from her, either. Yuffie was giggling joyously as she glommed all over the tall man, but then, from what she'd heard and seen, Yuffie was _always_ giggling joyously. Deciding this particular quandary was a question to be addressed later, Tifa turned to find her last charge.

Cloud was sprawled on the floor in the back of the room, one arm flung haphazardly across his face, limbs askew. As she approached, Tifa heard him snore ever-so-lightly from the back of his throat, and she chuckled in random amusement. But, as she took the time to inspect his face, her smile faded rapidly.

His features were contorted with agony, twisted into a horrific mockery of crying in his sleep. Body tensed and trembling, muscles convulsed across his arms and legs, leaving him twitching helplessly on the ground. Instinctively, Tifa's hands flew out to him, but she pulled away almost right away, unsure of how he would react to being touched in his sleep.

At an end, she called out to him: "Cloud? Cloud, can you hear me?"

In response to her gentle cry, his face twisted farther, and the hand on his head clenched convulsively, digging into the flesh of his cheek.

"Cloud!" Tifa cried, panicking. "Stop, stop, you're going to get hurt!"

The tremors in his legs and arms grew more violent, leaving him almost seizing on the floor, shaking helplessly and inescapably.

Tifa screamed.

"_Cloud!!_"

…XxX…

_It hurts._

_Don't hurt her—_

_I'm sorry—_

Flames, and darkness, and silver hair.

_No—_

_NO!_

Flames and burning and her eyes were like wine and chocolate, and her eyes were crying…

_Please, please! Don't touch her!_

_Not her, please, please not her! Take anyone, take everyone, take me, but don't touch her!_

Flames and silver hair, silver sword…and wine, chocolate, BLOOD…

Flames, and blood, and burning.

_NO!_

_No—no, please, I have to save her, please please keep her breathing, please, she can't die!_

Eyes opened, chocolate and blood and sin, eyes filled with tears. A hand, pale hand, strong hand soft hand sweet long hand—reached out. Lips—blue lips, cold lips, parted:

"Cloud…hear…me?"

_I hear you, I hear you. Please stay with me, please, please don't leave me, you can't die now, please…_

"Cloud…stop…hurt…"

_I'M SO SORRY I was supposed to protect you and I couldn't, I couldn't, so you can't die now, okay, you really can't die, please, please, you can't die here, you just CAN'T, PLEASE!_

"CLOUD!!"

_TIFA!!_

…XxX…

"TIFA!!"

Cloud tore himself into consciousness, arms flailing and legs kicking and chest heaving as he expended all of his will into pulling himself from the dream, back to reality. He woke, screaming the name of the girl he'd killed.

"Cloud, what's going on?! Are you okay?!"

Eyes opened, chocolate and wine and sin, eyes filled with worry but it was okay because her eyes were clean and clear and full of softness and energy and her eyes were so damn _ALIVE…_

"Tifa!" He cried, seizing her hands and dragging her down to where he knelt. She fell to her knees with a cry of panic, but it was okay because she was _alive_ to cry out. Cloud yanked her into his arms, he pulled her as close to his body as he possibly could, like he was trying to fuse them together, and he could feel her heartbeat pounding through their clothes, so, so alive.

"Cl—Cloud, what—"

He breathed in the smell of her hair, trapping her in place, holding her so tightly he didn't know if he'd ever let her go again. "Tifa, it's Tifa, you're _alive_," he moaned, petting her back and hair and shoulders. "I though you were dead, they all told me you were dead, they told me I'd killed you. Oh, Tifa, pretty Tifa, _my_ Tifa…"

Slowly, not understanding, Tifa lifted her arms and put them around Cloud's waist. He responded by crushing her even tighter to him, crooning her name over and over again, mixing it with various endearments but always returning to "my Tifa, my Tifa."

Confused, she laid her head on his shoulder.

He smelled good. Smelled like something that made her think of home, and of safe places, and of childhood and gentle hands.

He smelled like fire.

He smelled like old times.

_Times long lost and forgotten…_

"I know you," she breathed, jerking away from him, breaking his grip on her. He held fast to her shoulders, not allowing her to get away from him, but clear, innocent blue eyes—much too innocent to belong in the face of any grown man—stared at her, full of joy and relief and not understanding.

"I _know_ you," she repeated, and fainted in his arms.

…XxX…

_A/N_

_Wow. Dear god. I'm back!_

_I missed doing this way too much. And I got my inspiration back! *happy happy joy*_

_I'm very pleased with this chapter. Finally, we're leaving the exposition and getting into some real plot. Going to be much, much more angst from now on, but never fear—Zack exposure will keep it from getting too bad. I'm serious, I can't help it, every time Zack shows up my story becomes a comedy. It's infuriating._

_I'm glad to be back and if anyone is still out there, following this story, I owe my heart and soul to you for bearing with such a pissy, temperamental author. I love you all, my darlings!_

_Reviews make me write more of Cloud having sexy emotional breakdowns._


	4. The Strangest Thing

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter Four: Forgotten Memories_

_(If I owned FFVII, Zack would still be alive, Aerith would keep her damn hands off Cloud, there would be a law forbidding main character males to wear a shirt, and Cloud and Tifa would be married. And on a very very long honeymoon.)_

_I don't want to remember…_

_It's dark…I'm burning…_

_My back…it burns!_

_I CAN'T TAKE IT...!_

"Dammit, Lockhart, wake UP!"

She shot bolt upright, panting for air, chest heaving up and down with the force of her breathing. Taking rapid stock of her surroundings, she found herself in a hospital bed—the exact kind they had at the Help Center—surrounded by white privacy curtains. Dr. Fair was backing away from her side, grinning self-importantly. "Lockhart, can you tell me where you are?"

Figthing to bring her breathing back under control, Tifa turned to look at the tall man. "I'm in the Fair Help Center."

"And who am I?"

"You're Doctor Fair, obviously."

Zack pulled a penlight out of his coat pocket and shone it in her eyes, looking pleased. "Good, good. Doesn't look like there's anything really wrong with you. You scared the crap out of everybody, fainting like that."

Tifa put a hand to her forehead as if it would suppress the inevitable head rush. "I fainted?"

With a sly grin, Zack nodded. "Rather dramatically, I might add. I mean, I know that being cradled in the strong arms of Cloud Strife _is_ a rather swoon-worthy experience, but seriousy, that's just—"

His words were cut off when Tifa reached around and cuffed him on the back of the head. Hard.

"Ow. Okay. Yeah, you're fine, all right. _Damn_ you've got an arm, girl."

Tifa rushed to get up and help him. "Oh, my god, sir, I'm so sorry—"

Zack grinned easily, rubbing the back of his head. "Look, I'm not going to fire you unless you call me 'sir' again. You're tough, Lockhart, and I like tough girls." He pounded his chest with his fist and laughed. "Besides, I'm not that much older than you. You're twenty, right?" Tifa nodded, then tilted her head quizzically. "I'm only twenty-six."

"_What?!_"

With a quick howl of amusement, Zack walked away, leaving Tifa to stew over the sudden revelation. He pulled open the curtains around the bed, calling to the people outside. "She's awake now, you can come see her!"

For the third time that day, Tifa was attacked by several fast-moving lumps of human flesh.

"Marlene! Denzel!"

Tifa's baby brother and sister hugged her enthusiastically, proclaiming their loneliness and ordering her to come home immediately.

"Guys, it's my first day at work. If you're gonna be like this every day, I'm going to end up fired," Tifa laughed, petting their heads and ruffling their hair.

"Lockhart, will you quit thinking I'm going to fire you?" Zack interrupted, settling comfortably at the end of the bed. "I told you, I like tough girls. Besides, these are the two most awesome kids I've ever met. They're welcome to come visit you any day. They'll make friends right away."

When Tifa looked to down to glare at her siblings, they both had on their best 'Innocent Litle Children' faces. Her eyes narrowed accusingly. "And _how_ exactly did my much-too-manipulative baby siblings go about getting to my workplace?"

"That would be my fault, baby girl."

Tifa's head snapped around to find the huge black man standing just inside the curtains. "Barret!"

He walked over to ruffle his oldest daughter's hair. "They made the eyes at know I can't resist them when they do the eyes."

Barret wasn't Tifa's biological father—a fact that could be determined in seconds when comparing the huge, dark man to the small young woman—nor were Marlene and Denzel her blood siblings. At some point, Barret had developed a bad habit of taking in abandoned children. Tifa was the first he'd found—he'd never told her the circumstances, but she'd woken up one day with the first thirteen years of her memory gone and a long scar down the middle of her back.

They'd picked up Marlene, only an infant at the time, less than a year later. Denzel was the last, brought into the family only five years ago, at age eight. The family looked ragtag and mismatched from the outside, but Tifa knew—the Wallaces and the Lockharts knew—that family didn't have to share blood, or a last name. Marlene had taken Barret's, Tifa had kept hers as the only memory of her old life, and Denzel hadn't given himself one yet, seeming reluctant to choose.

"Tifa, girl, you still here?"

Blinking, Tifa turned her head and smiled at Barret, who had a concerned hand on her shoulder. She pulled a hand through her long hair, wishing her headache would abate. Eventually, she looked up to the four people gathered around her. She forced a blithe smile and asked, "Doc, how about you take Denzel and Marlene to meet Aerith? I've got to talk to Barret about something for a bit."

When the children immediately protested, Zack gave Tifa a look over their heads. She gave him her best pleading eyes, drawing a smile from the young doctor. "All right, all right," he sighed dramatically. "C'mon, kids, I'll show you the single most pink woman on the face of the planet." _That_ drew Denzel and Marlene's attention, and they immediately followed after Zack as he pulled them out of the curtains and into the hall beyond.

Barret eased himself down onto the bed at Tifa's feet, patting her knees soothingly. "Something wrong, Tifa, girl?"

Tifa toyed with the ends of her long hair nervously for a moment, then threw them down in disgust at her own weakness. She tossed the stray strands out of her face and looked her adoptive father straight in the eyes. "Barret, I need you to tell me what happened the day you found me."

The black man blanched, startled and troubled by her request. He rubbed her shins lightly, absentmindedly, but the touch comforted Tifa. "Baby, you sure you want to know this?"

She leaned forward and sank a hand deep into her hair, massaging her scalp. "Yes. Something happened—I don't—I need to know. Please, Barret, you have to tell me. I don't understand something, and I have to. I _need_ to."

Scratching his cornrows, Barret heaved a sigh, his barrel-chest expanding and collapsing heavily. "I don' really know how to say this," he muttered, scratching harder. "Tifa, when I found you, you were alone and bleeding in a town that was burning to the ground."

As she fought for composure, Tifa's hands clenched into fists on her knees. She gave no other outward sign of the turmoil within her, but her adoptive father knew, and he lifted a single huge hand to cover both of hers. "I'd seen the smoke from the road where I was travelling, and I ran to see who I could help. But the town was empty—evacuated, probably—and you were just lying there on the ground, cut straight down the middle of your back.

"You were passed out with a fever, and you kept muttering. You said your name, which is why I knew it—you talked a lot about how much it hurt—once or twice you said somethin' about silver."

Tifa stopped breathing.

"You would say that it hurt, over and over again, then you'd cry."

A single breath shuddered in and out of Tifa's lungs, unsteady and unhealthy and no air at all.

"You slept for seven days—until your fever broke and the cut down your back was healed some. When you woke up, you didn't remember a thing. But the thing, baby girl, is that it never bothered you. You always said that me and Marlene and Denzel were your family, last names or whatever aside. So what happened today that made that change all sudden-like?"

His big hand still held both of Tifa's, and she clung to it, trying to drag air in and out of her lungs, searching for some sort of inner solace. Barret petted her long hair, not sure what else to do.

When she forced her breathing back under control, Tifa brushed her hair out of her face and looked at her adoptive father. "It hasn't changed, Barret. It hasn't changed at all," she promised.

Barret smiled, big and proud, and patted her on the head. "That's my baby girl."

Curling up, she tucked her knees under her chin. "It's just…there's something. There's this guy, and—"

"A guy? Tifa, all this is about boy problems? I-I don't really think I'm the man to talk to…"

Tifa blushed before she could stop it, but shook her head, hard, right away, as if she could force the blood out of her cheeks. "No! No, no, that's not it at all. Barret, it—I don't get it. It's so strange. There's—this man. Here. Cloud Strife. And I just met him not five hours ago—and he's not supposed to be able to touch _anyone!_ But he had this dream, and he was screaming my name, and then when he woke up he hugged me, like he was never going to let me go. And Barret—Barret, I met him _five hours ago_. But I know him. I _know_ him! Somehow, something in me, it just…knows him. It's the strangest thing."

"Tifa, who's this spiky-looking guy standing out here?"

Barret shot up from the bed and ripped the curtains aside. There, standing just outside the bed, Denzel and Marlene staring up at him, stood Cloud Strife, a glare as black as death across his face, his noontime-sky eyes cold as ice, betraying nothing.

"Cloud," Tifa whimpered, suddenly too stunned to stand.

"No, it's not," Cloud said coldly, his voice full of tightly reined emotion. "It's the least strange thing in the world."

…XxX…

_A/N_

_I apologize for short chapter, but I had to end it here. I'm mean, I know._

_One thing I want to note: I'm modeling my Tifa for this story after the Tifa of the original game, not the one from Advent Children, but Cloud looks like he did in AC or CC. Just wanted to point that out, so you guys can picture them the same way I do._

_I originally intended for Tifa to have a bit more of a heart-to-heart with Zack here, but I really couldn't make him get serious. Darn him._

_And yes, Denzel, Marlene and Barret have finally appeared. Barret probably won't be around all that often, but Den and Mar are gonna be recurring characters. Hopefully._

_Next update should be out Thursday. See you then!_


	5. Sensory Overload

_**Review Responses:**_

_**kerapal bubbles**__: Yes, I think we all must love Zack. Aerith is too lucky. And Tifa, for that matter._

_**TornAngelWings**__: Yes, I'm evil. I'm glad to know I'm actually achieving suspense, I'm working really hard at it!_

_**Kitsune13**__: Just give me a moment to die of glee that you're reviewing me. *dies* Okay, all better now. I did finally manage to make Zack sober up in this chapter—apparently he just needs the right circumstances. Thanks for pointing that out about the scar, and it's supposed to be on her back, not her chest. I'm glad you like my Barret and kids—I just felt they were too important to leave out. And I'M SO HAPPY you're interested. I've been trying so hard to keep it interesting, I love to hear that it's working._

_**** ()**__ (? Not sure about this name…) I'm glad you like my CloudXTifa scenes. They're obscenely fun to write, and if that's what you like, you'll definitely appreciate this chapter._

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter Five: Sensory Overload_

_(I used to own Final Fantasy VII. Then I gave it to Cloud as a wedding present. Then he left me for Tifa. And I couldn't be mad because they're SO PERFECT TOGETHER…)_

"_No, it's not," Cloud said coldly, his voice full of tightly reined emotion. "It's the least strange thing in the world."_

His jaw tightened, his fist slammed into the wall, and he stormed out of the room, all lethal muscle and furious, only barely restrained strength, before Tifa could find the composure to speak.

Denzel, standing on his tiptoes, examined the drywall where Cloud had punched it. "He broke the _wall_," the boy murmured in awe.

From the doorway, Zack _tsk_ed. Tifa's head snapped around to find him leaning against the frame, Aerith wide-eyed and shaking in front of him. The doctor had one arm suspended around her waist—not touching her anywhere, but holding a small fence around her, the possessive protectiveness of the gesture very clear—and it would have been just as clear to Cloud, even as the shorter man had stormed by.

Even at his least rational, his most emotional state, Cloud would never lash out at a woman who had that much solid muscle mass behind her, practically radiating the words, "_Mine. Don't touch._" Tifa sat, slightly awestruck at Zack's calm, almost imperceptible way of protecting the people in his care.

Then she focused again.

"Cloud—I have to find—apologize—"

"He carried you, you know," Zack cut her off. Tifa froze, staring at the tall doctor. "After you passed out, Cloud picked you up and carried you here. Nearly broke down my door trying to make me come treat you. And he's been out there the whole time. Hasn't left since I came to wake you up."

She swallowed, hard, trying to fight down the lump in her throat when she didn't even understand why it was there. "I _have_ to go apologize."

Aerith, having finally calmed some, chimed in. "Well, you know where his room is. And you _do_ have a key."

"Baby girl," Barret interrupted, holding a hand out to her. When she reached out, he tossed her long red gloves to her. She caught them almost instinctively, startled. "You forgot those at home. Figured you'd want them."

Smiling, Tifa pulled the leather over her hands, pleased by the familiar, secure feeling. It was true—she'd felt oddly naked without them. As soon as the gloves were on, her hands were seized by her siblings. Their eyes, wide and excited, stared up at her. "You're gonna go make friends with him, right? And then he'll play with us?" With a grin, Tifa ruffled their hair and vaulted off the bed, feeling stronger with her gloves on and the safer with her family behind her.

But as she was walking out the door, Zack gripped her shoulder with iron-hard fingers, stopping her dead.

"Be careful, Lockhart," he muttered, too low for anyone else to hear, in her ear. "I know I said that you're tough, and I can tell that you're strong, but Cloud is stronger. You pulled him off Kadaj before, but that's nothing even close to his full strength. _Don't push him_. He could kill you without meaning to."

His hand slipped off her shoulder to settle on Aerith's, the whole exchange having occurred so quickly, he might have been giving her an encouraging pat on the back. But when Tifa walked away, a dull, throbbing ache in her shoulder reminded her of Zack's warning.

…XxX…

Cloud threw his pillow at the wall with enough force that it exploded upon impact. The feathers fluttered across the room, scattering all over the floor. His mattress followed, the seams tearing as he flipped it and rammed it into the wall again, and again. Slowing his motions, gently, carefully, his disassembled the frame of his bed, piece by piece. When he was through, he gathered up all the fragments and pitched them against the wall, one by one. The bars clattered off with a satisfyingly thunderous noise, while the smaller pieces, like the screws, broke right through the drywall with a pleasing, conclusive _punch_.

Disgusted, he flung himself down in the middle of the rubble that had once been a bed. His breathing was hardly any faster, his heart rate only minimally elevated.

"My god, Cloud..."

So _why_ did it immediately race to nothing more than the sound of her voice?

She was standing just inside his door, wine-and-chocolate eyes wide, a hand lifted to cover her plum-and-peach mouth.

He groaned and threw a hand over his face. He was not blushing. Cloud Strife did _not_ blush! "Can I help you?"

Almost-silent footsteps were dampened further by the scattered feathers, but he heard her approach. The soft impact of her knees on tile was muffled by the carpet of down, but he heard her kneel. He heard her reach out a hand to touch him. "I—I just—" He heard her withdraw, still hesitant to touch him, still not quite trusting him.

"You can touch me…" He breathed.

He heard her breath hitch, its slight stutter in her chest and throat. Heard the rustle of her clothes as she reached out again.

Felt the light brush of her fingers, soft as flower petals and rain, barely there at all, pushing his hair away from his face.

He'd almost forgotten what human touch felt like…

And this wasn't it.

Quick as thinking, his hand shot up and he seized her wrist in a vise-tight grip, fingers shaking slightly.

She whimpered his name. "Cloud…"

"Why are you wearing gloves?" he demanded, loosening the red leather at her fingertips before pulling the whole thing off. Throwing her arm down, he grabbed the other and tore off the glove there. Tifa gave a quiet cry and, before he could get any more inflamed, lifted now-bare hands to cup his jaw. His eyes lifted to hers.

His eyes were blue like ocean waters off paradise shores and the noontime skies reflected in them.

Her eyes were burgundy, wine and chocolate and lover's promises in the dark, and fresh-spilled blood in the mud.

"I just came to apologize," she murmured.

He covered one of her hands with his own, re-learning the feel of skin, on his face, on his fingers. A low rumble escaped him, and she smiled.

Slowly, lightly, she dragged her fingertips from the corners to the point of his jaw, then repeated the motion twice more, helping him to remember what touch was. What it felt like…

From the narrow point of his jaw, she drew lines down his throat—over his carotid artery, over his jugular vein, over his pharynx, over his sternocleidomastoid muscle. She ran off the anatomical names in her head, trying to keep herself calm.

But the thick throbbing of his throat as he swallowed tensely—the heavy pulsing of blood in the vessels of his neck—the subtle vibrating of his voice box as he hummed quietly—called to the contrary.

She was enthralled by him.

Mapping out the jut of his collarbones and the muscles of his shoulders, her fingers never touched him with more pressure than the lightest of could-be-accidental brushes. But every path she traced was repeated two, three times—as if she couldn't stand to stop. She carefully edged out the lines of his biceps and triceps, the creases of his elbows, the tense muscles of his forearms.

Her fingernails dragged lightly over the veins in the back of his hands, over the miniscule wrinkles between his fingers. Gently, with touch more as a guide than a pressure, she flipped his hands, using the nails of her pinky fingers to trace out the lines of his palms. She laid her fingers against his, aligning them base to tip, and just let the warmth of his hands seep into hers.

Cloud lifted his right hand, fingers tangling into hers and lifting them with his, and pressed their palms to his chest.

Through the thick black of his sweater, his heart was hammering so hard, he thought it was going to erupt out of his chest and keep beating on the floor.

Their other hands played pointlessly on the ground between them, fingers tangling and knotting and untying, pressure never more than feather-light, sending little tingles up through both of them. Using her fingers, he picked a single white feather up off the tile floor and tucked it behind her ear.

He stared for a few seconds, imagining the soft black of her hair leaching into the down of the feather, staining it.

Black like wings.

…XxX…

Somewhere, not too far away, a madman laughed for the first time in seven years.

He's spent the last one-and-twenty years screaming and beating himself raw against the walls of everything, but it's only been seven years since he laughed.

He laughed to watch it burn.

He laughed to watch cerulean eyes flow with tears, to watch burgundy eyes forced closed.

He laughed to watch them as everything collapsed to ashes around them.

That was seven years ago.

And now he laughs again, dreaming of sunshine hair clotted crimson and black wings stained red.

…XxX…

Vinnie's always been really pretty.

He's got pretty long hair and pretty amber eyes and he's tall and carries that red blanket with him everywhere so when he walks into a room he doesn't just _step_ in the door, he _sweeps_, and everybody turns to look at him, but he doesn't care about that. He probably doesn't even notice it.

Vinnie's really pretty.

…Yuffie's pretty too, you know…

Maybe he notices, maybe he doesn't, he never really says. Yuffie's caught him staring a few times. And, just 'cause she's the Great Ninja Yuffie, she could pick up what he was saying.  
"_Her hair was brown, not black…"_

"_Her hair was long, not short…"_

"_She was tall, not tiny…"_

"_She never said anything except 'Sorry…' and you wouldn't even apologize for anything, would you…"_

Yuffie's not sure what he's talking about. Except it sounds like he's comparing Yuffie to somebody and Yuffie's not measuring up.

Which is nonsense! 'Cause she's the Great Ninja Yuffie, and she's the best!

…_Right…?_

And who cares what silly Vinnie thinks, anyway?! Silly Vinnie, pretty Vinnie…

No! Bad Yuffie! Not pretty, silly! Silly Vinnie.

…Yuffie doesn't think she liked you holding pretty Tifa's hand. It made this very, very funny sort of stab in Yuffie's chest. Is this that silly thing you always talk about, Vinnie? Heart pain?

Tifa's hair is long, and softer black than Yuffie's, and Tifa's tall, for a girl.

Aw, never mind that! Yuffie is the Great Ninja Yuffie, the White Rose of Wutai! She's the kind of girl who isn't ever gonna let a man hold her down!

…But it makes Yuffie happy when Vinnie holds her hand.

…XxX…

_A/N_

_Just a few notes on this one. I got into some side-character-love at the end there—way too much fun—I hope it didn't distract too much. Zack finally mellowed out for me, hooray, and just a little bit of Zerith for you._

_And last, directed to everyone but to__** vLuna**__ in particular, who asked directly: Tifa has a scar on her back, not her chest. As to why—I've heard it mentioned in countless fics and other places but, randomly, no matter where I look I can't find an official testament to Tifa having a scar on her chest. Getting stabbed, yes, scar, no. And while I was prodding around, I found that one early concept idea was that Tifa would have a scar on her back that Cloud had given her somehow. I latched onto the idea and eventually just decided to run with it. It'll grow more significant as the story progresses._

_I love reviews nearly as much as I love Cloud. Pleeeease!_


	6. Scarred Sleep

**Review Responses: lovelymokotan27**: Yes, it was somehow the only way I could envision Yuffie thinking. It really suits her, though, doesn't it? And Cloud is crazy. Everybody's crazy! It's why we love them. **TornAngelWings**: I try! I try so hard, and I'm very sorry this one was so late! **Babyviolin**: Thanks for the review! I got a lot of positive response for the Yuffentine, maybe more will come? Who knows… **kerapal bubbles**: Yes, laughing Sephy is the height of creepry. If you have nightmares, we have them together. And Tifa will gladly deliver hugs for the good of all.** ** ():** Good to see you again! And what the heck, why are you predicting my story for me?! *wink* I think you'll like this chapter. **LadyTeefStrife:** Yeah, I know it was really only a concept idea, but I liked it, and so there. And yes. CloTi is joy.** vLuna**: I'm glad you liked it! I promise much CloudXTifa in the future. **Vanilla Raindrops:** Yes, I love my creepy Seph and my angsty CloTi. And I'm glad you liked my Yuffentine, I had the time of my life writing it. **Toriga-Okami**: I'm glad you like it so much! I promise, I won't let a break like that happen again. **kitsune13:** What is WITH people predicting my story? Yes, Zack and Cloud have a past, and it will appear later. You really got the whole intimacy of my touching moment, *dies of joy.* And yes, we should all run in fear from the very very scary Sephiroth. **itsanobsession92:** I'm very glad you started reading despite your trepidation! I opted for a 'nice' asylum rather than a 'scary' one, and I think it suits things better. And I'm glad you like my pairings! I just pick my favorites. Cloud will get his Tifa time, never fear. **NamioftheSea**: Glad to hear you're interested! More is on the way, I swear!

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter Six: Scarred Sleep_

_(Once upon a time, there was a person who owned Final Fantasy VII. This person was not me. They lived happily ever after, and I wrote fanfiction. Then I was happy, too.)_

She could feel his heartbeat under her palm.

_Thrum, thrum, thrum._

Cloud drew her other hand to his face. Halfway there, she took over the motion, lifting her fingers to carefully play with one of the longer spikes hanging down his by his right cheek. His hand, in turn, reached out to her face, his pale fingertips trembling very slightly as they brushed over her lower lip.

His mouth went dry.

"Um…you, uh," he mumbled, searching for words. She smiled against his fingers and lifted an eyebrow at him. "You, um, you board here, right? You're going to stay at the Center?"

Tifa tilted her head. "Yeah?"

Her breath was warm and damp against his fingertips. Gritting his teeth, he curled his fingers into a fist and lowered his hand to his side. "Look, will you—come here? Tonight?" When Tifa's hands dropped from his face and chest, his breath went ice-cold in his chest. "No! I didn't mean—no! No, no. Look, I just—I never got the chance to fall asleep next to y—anyone. I only want sleep. That's all." His hands, listless, dropped into his lap.

For thirteen seconds, Tifa pondered.

Her fingers lifted his own from his calves, twining together. His head lifted, sky eyes finding warm spiced wine, and she smiled.

"You're gonna have to put the bed back together," she laughed, and Cloud smiled very slightly in response.

"I can do it, " he promised.

Tifa giggled and leaned forward to kiss his forehead lightly. "Then I'll be here at ten."

Just a little bit dumbstruck, Cloud waited until she'd flounced out of the room before he let his fingers wander up to trace the tingling memory on his forehead and whisper, "It's a date."

…XxX…

"D'you think we should've told her about the security cameras before we sent her to his room?" Zack mused, rubbing his jaw. Aerith, standing next to him, stared devoutly at the floor and didn't respond. Looking down ruefully, scratching at the back of his head, Zack muttered, "All right, yeah, I shoulda told her, but then she wouldn't have reached out like she did, and I really think that's exactly—"

"_That was so cute!!!_" Aerith squealed, her eyes huge and sparkling. Zack backed away several steps out of sheer shock, then burst out laughing as Aerith continued to squee exuberantly. Slowly, his laughter faded into a predatory grin, and he began to advance on the smaller woman. His steps were just a little bit longer, his stance a little bit lower, his usual blithe vibes just a little bit more dangerous than normal.

A few steps more and he had her backed to the wall, arms on either side of her head, and with just a stare from pale violet eyes and she's shaking and wide-eyed and breathing fast for him.

"Don't _tell_ me you're some sort of voyeur, Aerith," he purred low in his chest, and his manly pride gloried to the hitch in her breath and the glowing of her eyes in response to his proximity. He leaned down to gently nudge her bangs away with his nose, his lips skimming the skin of her forehead and temple. She sighed his name.

"Doctor Fair…"

Zack clicked his tongue disapprovingly, bending further to brush his nose along the curve of her ear. "Wrong," he growled, the word rumbling low in his throat. Twisting, he lightly grazed her earlobe with his teeth, prompting her to speak again.

"Z-Zack…"

"Good!" He praised, before slipping his tongue along the shell of her ear. She whimpered and squirmed in his hold, so he moved a hand to cradle her cheek, keeping her in place. Pleased, he noted the warm red tinge of her ear and face—_the most pink woman in the world_—and chuckled to himself.  
"And just _what_ is going on in here?"

He reeled away from Aerith to find Tifa standing in the doorway, hands on her hips and a knowing grin on her face. Zack said nothing, half-grinning, not sure if he should respond with bragging and charm or beg her to keep quiet, and Aerith was blushing so fiercely he wasn't sure she was actually capable of speaking.

Tifa approached slowly, her stance threatening, her face predatory. Finally working up the nerve, Zack swallowed and began, "Lockhart, look—"

"You were spying on Cloud and I, weren't you?"

He paused.

Tifa walked past the dumbstruck couple to glare at the screen, still showing the feed from Cloud's room. When she reached it, she flicked her hair over her shoulder and gave Zack a look that very explicitly said, _I know and you know that I know but you haven't said anything and so I'm assuming you don't want anyone to say anything so I'm not saying anything but I KNOW._ Then, with a fat wink to Aerith, she affixed an expression of righteous offense. "That was a massive violation of my privacy, you know."

Zack grinned ruefully and scratched at the back of his head. "Yeah, well, he is kind of unstable, and I had to know if you needed help, see…"

Aerith still hadn't said anything. Zack wondered if the sheer amount of blood flooding her cheeks had deprived her brain of the flow and given her some sort of permanent damage.

Tutting lightly, Tifa shook her head one last time before dropping her act completely. "Could you hear? What he said at the end?"

Following her attitude, Zack released his bravado, too. "'Bout you coming to his room tonight? Yeah, we heard."

"And?"

Scrubbing harder at his skull, Zack contemplated. "It's hardly textbook methodology, to say the least, but the thing is, you have to go now." A tilt of her head indicated Tifa's lack of comprehension. "I've thought for a long time that Cloud's issues with touch are deeper-seated trust problems. The fact that you can touch Cloud shows that, in some way, he has let you into his heart. You're the first person he's trusted for the last seven years."

Tifa swallowed.

"And now you've gone and made him a promise—just a little thing, but a promise all the same. At this point, for you to break that promise could very well destroy that fragile trust Cloud's placed in you, and there's no telling the long-term effects that could have."

"Oh. Oh, gods." Tifa backed a few steps away from the screen, where Cloud was busily reassembling his bed. "I'm so sorry, I really didn't think, he just seemed like he really _needed_ me to say yes right then and I—"

Zack held up a hand, calling for silence. "Lockhart, will you _please_ stop apologizing for shit?!" Tifa paused at that. It was the first time Zack had cursed in front of her, and she wasn't sure if it was an indication of anger or ease. But pale violet eyes caught hers and she knew his irritation wasn't directed at her. "Look, there's a reason I opened up my own center instead of working somewhere else. I like to work by my own methods, however weird they may be. I give my patients what they need, not what some washed-up doc writing psychology textbooks says I should. And when I see Cloud Strife, the man who can't even _touch_ another person, looking into my attendant's eyes and asking her to take a nap with him, I have absolutely no problem with it."

He glanced over his shoulder at Aerith, who had managed to stop blushing and was now staring at him, slightly awestruck by his intensity. When he looked back to Tifa, Zack's eyes were lighter, his attitude less fierce. An already-familiar grin reasserted itself on his face, and he leaned against the wall next to Aerith before continuing. "I don't know what the hell you are, Tifa Lockhart, but you might just be exactly what these people need. Do what you think is right. Love them or kick their asses as you see fit. I trust you."

The dark-haired woman looked both intimidated and gratified. She ducked her head with a whispered, "Thank you," before fleeing the room.

Zack spent a moment staring at the security camera feed and nodding in satisfaction. As he did, Aerith slowly snuck up next to him and hugged his arm. When the doctor looked down at her, Aerith colored just slightly pink again and pouted out her pale lips. "You never said anything like that to _me,_" she muttered sulkily.

A grin quirked at Zack's mouth, and he brought his other arm around to gather Aerith into him, leaning her body into the slant of his. "You love everyone, Aerith. And people need that love, but once in a while they need sense slapped into them, too." Gently, he brushed her bangs out of her eyes, green as life, and she smiled up at him. "But even though you love everything in the whole world, you love me especially, right?"

Her cheeks were already pink again, but the brunette nodded.

"In fact, if I recall, we were just interrupted in the middle of an exercise of that love, weren't we? I don't suppose you recall where we were?"

Aerith passed the point of pink and went full-out crimson blush, but she nodded again and pointed to her ear shyly.

Grinning, Zack leaned down to press kisses from the skin behind her earlobe, down her jaw, until he reached pale pink lips and claimed them as his own.

…Xxx…

Ten o' clock came, and Tifa found herself in flannel pajamas with a pillow under her arm, outside Cloud Strife's room.

Hesitant despite herself, she lifted a hand and knocked lightly.

"Come in," he rumbled from within.

"'_Fuck off' is as close to 'Yes' as you'll ever get from Cloud."_

The memory made Tifa chuckle even as she pushed open the door.

Cloud, sitting on his reassembled bed, quirked an eyebrow at her. Tifa lifted a shoulder as she approached the bed. "Just something Aerith said today, that's all." She paused at the edge of his bed, unsure, fiddling with the corners of her pillowcase.

Another subtle smile lingering on the corners of his mouth, Cloud lifted his hands to Tifa. "Give me the pillow." She obliged quickly, and he threw it carelessly in the corner of the bed before reaching up again. "Now give me your hands."

She slipped her fingers into his, relaxing as the warmth of him spread into her. Gently, he tugged her forward, until she was on her knees on the bed. Pulling more insistently on her hands, he coaxed her into his arms, wrapping her tightly in his arms. She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder as he buried his face in her throat, the tips of his fingers playing with the ends of her hair.

Slowly, his motions so smooth that Tifa almost didn't notice them, Cloud rolled them towards the side, turning their position so they faced away from the door. Then he gently eased them down onto their sides, shifting his grip on Tifa so she faced away from him. Curling around her, he pressed her back into his chest, nosing into the hair at the nape of her neck. She sighed, and he cooed in her ear. "Good, good. Just like that. Just sleep…"

Tifa hummed lightly, content. Cloud's breath was warm on her neck and his arms were warm on her waist and his chest warm on her back and she could feel his warm heartbeat through their clothes.

…

It was long past ten before Cloud Strife moved again.

Tifa had been asleep for hours—long enough that she wouldn't wake when he did finally shift. Carefully, slowly, a millimeter at a time, he worked her shirt up her back. His fingers brushed lightly over each vertebra as it was exposed, keeping her calm and soothed, unaware.

At length her shirt was hitched up to her shoulders, her whole back exposed.

Fingertips—just his fingertips, just the lightest of touches, the faintest trace of a feather—traced the thick white scar tissue from the curve of her shoulder to the small of her back. Leaning forward, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the edge of her shoulder blade, where the scar was widest and deepest.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, and his tears were hot against her skin. "I'm so sorry."

…XxX…

_A/N_

_I AM SO SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE! This was due LAST SUNDAY. *wails* I had finals, and then my father stole my laptop because he thought I couldn't sleep because I use it in bed. The what? But I'm back now, and finals are over—thank the gods—so normal updating should resume!_

_I had a bit of a time with this chapter, especially my Zerith moment—I had a really hard time with it for some reason, so I apologize if it sucks. And I'm beginning to have to write review responses longer than my actual update. I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH. *collective glomp*_

_Read and review and I'll see you on Thursday!_


	7. Cold Fire

**Review Responses:**

**Srtª Carol**: Thank you and I'm sorry! I really do try hard to get these out promptly…*weep*. **LadyTeefStrife**: Yeah, it's too fun to write my gushy CloTi moments. I have to restrain myself…glad to have brought a smile to your day!** pink_candy**: Thank you! I hope you'll enjoy this update, too. **DynastyWARRIORS**: Well I'm glad you haven't given up on CloTi! I know the feeling—I lost my inspiration for the couple a few months into this fic, but I, too, have regained my inspiration! Please favorite, it makes me happy! *pleading face* **Toriga-Okami**: Yay! I'm very happy! Chapter six really is my favorite chapter so far, and I'm glad you enjoyed reading it as much as I love to write it. You flatter me. **kerapal bubbles**: I must admit that I, too, have a soft spot for Zerith. But, sadly, a large part of my soul has been sold to CloTi…they will always be my favorite pairing, I'm afraid.** vLuna**: HAH! I had never thought about that! (I laughed for fifteen minutes after reading your review.) And Cloud really IS painfully adorable. ******: Yeah, I love writing Zack—he's an awesome character. And I imagine Tifa _would_ be a bit surprised. :P **NamioftheSea**: Thanks! I really love Zack, he's easy and fun to channel. Also, yes, Cloud is sweet like cotton candy and fluffy love and joy. **TornAngelWings**: I'm going to petition to have Zackalicious added to the dictionary. That should be an adjective. I'm glad you liked my Zerith, I spent a really long time on it. **Vanilla Raindrops**: Yes, I like writing disclaimers, they're fun. Yes, Aerith if highly smitten, and I'm not sure anyone really remembers quite properly…*hint hint nudge nudge* **kitsune13**: Best. Review. Of. My. Life. I like how well you grasp my Cloud character—vulnerable yet dangerous, and really sort of limitless when it comes to Tifa. He's not a visceral person right now, but rather very emotional—he's dealing with a lot of stuff that he doesn't really trust anyone with. And I must admit, I never particularly liked men crying, either, but—it _fit._ And I'm so, so glad you approve. *dies of joy*

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter 7: Cold Fire_

_(I SWEAR, Mr. Copyright Lawyer! I really DID have the deed to FFVII! My dog ate it, that's all!)_

Tifa was dreaming.

She knew she was dreaming, because she'd fallen asleep in the lovely, perfect warmth of Cloud's arms, and wherever she was, it was no longer with him. Though it was warm here, too. But not warm like Cloud. His heat was gentle and slow, seeping through her every time his pale skin touched hers. Here…here was burning.

She thought.

Something was wrong with her, with her senses. The sounds that reached her ears were confused and indistinct, muffled, like someone had shoved cotton into her ears. Her vision was blurry, the colors fuzzy and shapes indistinct, her sense of smell was less keen, and even the sensations crawling over her skin seemed slower. Quieter. Muted.

But there was heat. There was fire.

Everywhere her crippled eyes looked, there was fire.

Something swelled up inside of her, slow swelling emotion. Patiently, Tifa waited for her sluggish nervous system to wash the feeling over her, unsure of what to expect.

When the wave finally crashed down, she almost drowned.

_Sorrow. Terror. Fury. Horror._

_Fear._

She was so, so afraid.

It flooded her unexpectedly, cold and wet and taking over her insides, choking her, chilling her, freezing her where she stood. Whatever it was that was burning around her, she'd loved it—and there was something she loved most of all still inside the flames.

Then her legs were moving without her conscious command, and her nerves were still working too slowly for her to make them stop before she was inside fire and smoke and ashes, running and running and looking for—something.

But all her crippled eyes could see was orange and red and black and burning.

She was running, and she was pretty sure she was screaming, but her blunted hearing and her dysfunctional nerves couldn't be certain. Then she must have been choking on the smoke, because her hand was around her throat and her chest was heaving and she was on her knees and couldn't seem to breathe.

Even though she couldn't pull any oxygen into her lungs, she stood and ran and screamed again. Her too-slow brain told her it was a name, the most important name, but she couldn't find it and couldn't hear it even though it was tearing itself out of her throat. She was running and running because whatever it was she loved most in this world was here in the fire and she had to find it, had to save it, could never just leave it to burn…

Shadows moved in flame.

And she was sprinting towards them and tearing her throat out with the force of her cries and there was something hot and wet on her cheeks, she thought, even though she couldn't remember the last time she cried. Then her blinded eyes saw sense in the blots of darkness and her mind didn't comprehend but it _knew_ and it roared to her:

_Danger._

_Danger._

_Danger._

Someone was trying to hurt the one thing she had left to love and even for all the holes the flames had torn in her heart, if this _one last thing_ was destroyed, she would be, too.

Even if it cost her everything, it was something she had to protect.

And she was leaping between shadows and there was shine and silver and sunshine, and now for the first time all dreaming long her nerves worked properly, and she felt her back sliced open and there was pain, and pain, and pain…

There was hot and wet on her cheeks and hot and wet on her back.

Tears and blood.

Even if it cost her everything, it was something she had to protect.

Because everything was burning, she needed to be able to look up around the tears and blood and find crystal blue ocean eyes. If everything was burning, if she was bleeding and burning alive, she needed that clear paradise water to survive.

…XxX…

When she woke up, both painful hot and comforting warm were gone.

She went bolt upright, flinging dark hair everywhere as she searched frantically for her warm, for her comforting, wonderful warm—Cloud—

He was staring out the window at the rising sun, sunshine filtering through his hair and turning pale white skin golden.

In so many ways, he was more beautiful than any woman.

But when he turned to look at her, the liquid depths of his eyes were crystallized solid and icy cold, and all that perfect paradise water was frozen solid and expressionless, and all that warm, liquid _Cloud_ was gone.

Tifa reached out a hand. "Cloud—"

"Thank you," he said, and his voice was as hard as the ice of his eyes. "I needed that. You can go now."

Something inside of Tifa broke.

"Cloud, what? I—what's wrong? Cloud…?"

He crossed his arms and stared out the window. The set of his jaw was arrogant, dismissive. It was an expression and a demeanor that Tifa had never expected to see on the man before her, a cold entirely incompatible with the warmth of Cloud.

_But then_, a traitorous thought whispered in the depths of Tifa's brain. _What do you really understand about him? Whether he can touch you or not, you've known him for less than twenty-four hours…you don't know him._

"Get out."

The words were stone cold, ice-cold, and Tifa felt them like a whip of winter wind across her face—numbing. She swung her feet out of the bed—the tile an unpleasant shock under her bare feet—and stood. Cloud didn't move from the window, didn't turn to look at her, didn't say another word.

When she reached the door, Tifa looked over her shoulder. Glaring at him with a single burgundy eye, she called out: "You know how first impressions are supposed to be wrong? That's a lie, Cloud Strife. The first time I saw you I thought you were an asshole, and that's all you are." Then the door slammed shut, locking with a swipe of her pass card.

It was so much easier to answer coldness with coldness than to reveal the fleshy, vulnerable mass rising in her throat, threatening to choke her.

It was his warmth lingering within her.

And some part of her—that same part of her that insisted that she knew him, that part of her that filled her dreams with fire and blue eyes—part of her simply refused to believe that a warmth like Cloud's was faked.

…

He sucked the blood from underneath his nails where they had broken the skin of his forearms, focusing on that brief flash of pain rather than the agony that tore through his chest from just a few stony words to her.

She'd left her pillow on his bed. He picked it up and shook it, imagining he was shaking her by the shoulders, trying to shake the trust right out of her eyes.

"Hate me," he ordered it. "Hate me! Despise me, loathe me, think of me as an annoyance and nothing more. Gods, Tifa…" His fingers tightened into cloth and down, fighting again with the raw pain slashing across his torso. "You're so beautiful, you've always been beautiful, oh, Tifa, _my_ Tifa…I don't deserve this. I don't deserve to look at you, to be near you, to touch you. I don't deserve it, Tifa. In the whole of the world, I am the one person who has no right to love you."

The words came out of his mouth, but the pillow came up over his face and mouth and he breathed it in. It still smelled like her…

He could die like this. Die while she hated him, which was best for her—but he wanted to die wrapped in her scent, wrapped in her arms.

He screamed into the pillow and imagined he was smothering himself with her scent.

…XxX…

(_A/N: This is Vincent talking. I figure, Yuffie talks in third person, Vincent talks in second. "You" refers to Vincent. Sorry for any confusion._)

Look at you.

Is _this_ the depth of your devotion?

Weren't you supposed to love her? Her and her alone, to the exclusion of every other person and creature and thing on this planet? She was supposed to be everything to you. The only thing that mattered to you. You existed to serve, to protect, to love her.

Wouldn't you have done anything just to see her smile again?

It's not like you've forgotten. You remember clearer than ever. The softness of her hair, her skin, her mouth. The smell of her—like chemicals and sterility, a coldness that sent a chill of fear and exhilaration down your spine. The tone of her voice, how it rang in your ears when she cried your name—in fear, in joy, in ecstasy—and you can still here it now, like the longest of echoes, ringing on, and on, and on…

_Vincent, Vincent, Vincent…_

And your pulse dies with the echo, withering away every time the rebound of that cry weakens.

You can't say her name without choking on it, but you weep it within the bounds of your mind, in time with her cry of your own.

_Lucrecia…_

You loved her. Her and her alone, to the exclusion of every other person and creature and thing on this planet. She was everything to you. The only thing that mattered to you. You existed to serve, to protect, to love her.

You would have done anything just to see her smile again.

Wouldn't you?

This hospital is full of holes. It wouldn't be so hard to die here. Even yesterday, when Cloud threw the fragments of his bed straight through the wall and into your room—it would have been so easy to move in front of one, take it straight to the temple. With Cloud's strength behind it, it would have been more than enough to break some blood vessels, slowly fill the inside of your skull with fluid until your brain stopped functioning…

But you dodged them.

Not enthusiastically—the one that had threatened your brain hit a hand you'd raised instead—but you actively chose life over death. Over _her._

Why?

"_Because Vinnie's too funny to die, silly!"_

Lucrecia had been elegance, and cold, and sorrow. Lucrecia was the waning moon, the crescent—just like her name.

But she—_she_—she was like a comet. So bright and fleeting and flaring across your vision, more brilliant than a falling star, blinding you with her light. She was like the flare from a fire; a sudden flash of warmth against your skin, a heat so intense it almost burned too-cool flesh. She was like herself and no one else, so blithely cheerful, so ridiculously happy, so terrifyingly _light_.

It feels like it's been so long since you held light.

You would have done anything just to see her smile again.

But she's dead.

And she's never going to.

And _she_ is always smiling.

…XxX…

_A/N_

_I apologize for the short chapter, but at least I got it out on time? Right? Hah! Hah. Ha…_

_I feel like there should be something more monumental for chapter seven of a Final Fantasy Seven fanfic, but…Well, we have the return of meanie-Cloudy! 'Cause we all love it when our favorite hero acts like a jerkface! Right? Right…?_

_UGH. This chapter is meeeean…_

_Don't worry; things will begin to be explained next chapter!_

_Sorry, I'm in a slightly ill mood right now…_

_Read and review and I'll see you on Sunday!_


	8. Fighting Himself

**Review Responses:**

**kerapal bubbles**: Yeah, poor Vinnie. I'm mean to him, but it's his fault for having dead-ex-girlfriend issues. And yeah, second person is an unreasonable amount of fun to write. **LadyTeefStrife**: *weeps* Thank you…you really got the essence of the chapter. The Vincent bit was really just some fun after the CloTi angst. There is a lot of pain there, and your appreciation of it gives me joy. Yaaaay! **kitsune13**: Glad you liked it! It was a pretty plot-important chapter—and I love the eye-awareness, I love the eyes in FFVII. Oh, and the cameras—and Zack—have been watching all night. He's an attentive friend. Vincent was, to me, a pause for breath before the plot in this chapter. **vLuna**: They're both poor abused characters. We shall hug them both. *glomp* **Forget and Forgive**: And more you shall have! Hope you like this chapter. **NamioftheSea**: Well, Zack doesn't get to whack him, but somebody does. I'm glad at least ONE person likes my meanie-Cloud. **Blue Fire Lily**: Thank you, I hope this chapter is as good as the last! **Toriga-Okami**: Don't worry, Mean-Cloud won't be showing up too much anymore. I hate writing him, the jerkface. I'm flattered you like my fic so much! Hope you enjoy this update, too. **: You're predicting my story again! Yeah, they're both pitiable, and Zack does watch. He knows everything, man. Whaaaat… **TenkaCat**: Welcome and thanks for joining up! I try to keep everybody in character, and parallel to the plot. It's fun, and challenging. And Zack and Cloud don't really dislike each other—they haven't gotten to interact much yet. They will this chapter. They're actually pretty good friends. **City of Dis: **Glad to have surprised you! I know what you mean about being disappointed when you open a fic. My Cloud character is very fun to write, and complex. I love delving into all of it. And yes, it's pretty much Nibelhiem all over again. Oh, the pain…

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter 8: Fighting Himself_

_(I don't THINK I own FFVII. I'm pretty sure I sold it at our garage sale…Maybe it's still in the basement somewhere…Hm.)_

"What have you done now, Cloud Strife?"

Cloud ripped the pillow off his face and shot upright, searching frantically for the source of the voice, only to find Vincent standing in his doorway. He sighed and fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Get out of here, Vincent."

The older man stepped farther into the room. "I will not."

A corner of Cloud's mouth twitched. He liked Vincent, related to him more easily than anyone else in the Help Center—Yuffie was too exuberant, the brothers far too insane, and Aerith was just too…_nice_. Zack was different. Zack knew more about him than anyone else did, but Zack was too busy being Cloud's doctor to be his friend. Vincent was calm, quiet, kept his distance, and didn't judge. He was the closest thing to a friend Cloud had since coming to the Fair Help Center.

Sitting up, he turned to face the older man. Vincent had his red blanket—where had he even _gotten_ that thing?—wrapped around his shoulders and draped down his back, black pins holding it closed in front of his face. It covered everywhere from his chin to his nose, and disorderly black hair obscured the rest of his face, but for that one ever-staring amber eye.

Cloud sighed. "Well, if you're not going to leave, at least tell me what you _want_."

"To do this."

And then Vincent's fist was clenched in the fabric of Cloud's shit, and his arm was pulling, and Cloud was flying across the room and into the opposite wall.

He hit with a crash and enough force to crack the drywall. Rebounding off, Cloud fell to the ground with a dull thud. Vincent stood over him, face unchanged.

Cloud climbed carefully to his feet, extending each joint carefully to make sure nothing was damaged. Through with his checkup, he regained his feet and seized the front of Vincent's shirt. Dragging the other man close, his hissed into his face, "What. The _fuck_. Was that?"

Vincent's hands fisted into Cloud's shirt, too, jerking the shorter blonde around. "I saw Tifa Lockhart coming out of your room on the edge of tears. What have you done, Cloud Strife?"

Hissing in distaste, Cloud released Vincent, shoving him away. "I don't see how that's any of your concern."

Long fingers tightened on Cloud's upper arm, nails seeking and finding pressure points, digging in.

Cloud sucked a breath in through his teeth. "Don't touch me…"

Pulling the other man closer, Vincent snarled in his ear. "You—you have a woman—the woman you love—and you make her cry…What is wrong with you…"

Tremors, quiet shakes began to run through Cloud. Vincent's grip on his arm tightened, as if to hold him in place.

"Don't touch me…"

"And I—if I had her back, I'd kill to make her smile. But you…you make her cry…what is wrong with you…"

"_Don't touch me!!!_"

Cloud's fist tightened into Vincent's overlong hair, jerking him sideways into the wall. But Vincent didn't go quietly, and Cloud had to put out more strength that previously, and accidentally broke through the first layer of drywall with Vincent's skull. His brain was flooded with the familiar rage, the insatiable need to _get it off his skin and kill it, kill it,_ but there was more there, more pain, and he pulled Vincent out of the shattered plaster to shove him against the wall. Even though the man was taller than him, Cloud had the reach to lift him off the ground, holding him by his stupid-ass blanket against the wall.

"What's wrong with me? I'll tell you what's fucking wrong with me, Vincent Valentine. I'll tell you why I made that woman sad."

Shoving his face up close to Vincent's, Cloud hissed: "There used to be this kid, right? And this kid—he was madly fucking in love with the girl who lived next door to him. But she was beautiful, and she was perfect, and he was some bastard child without a dad and without friends. But one day when he was fourteen, he decided he was gonna tell her he loved her. So he had her meet him by the well in the town.

"But that day—someone came to the town. And he burned it to the fucking ground.

"And when he'd destroyed the town and most of the people in it, he came for the kid. The kid didn't know why, but the man wanted to cause him—exclusively him, especially him, above anyone else—as much pain—as much agony—as he possibly could. He told the kid that he was going to find the girl, and he was going to torture her to death in front of the kid.

"That kid didn't have a dad, but his dad had left one thing—left his sword behind. And the kid was not going to let his girl die. So he took the sword and tried to kill the man.

"But the kid was only a kid—and he didn't know how to use a sword—and then she was running, and screaming his name, and he just panicked, and he swung…"

The hands fisted in Vincent's clothes were trembling. Cloud's head was bowed, his whole body shaking violently. Grinding his fists into Vincent's chest, Cloud snarled the last words out:

"What's wrong with me? My hometown—the only place I ever knew—was burned down. Because of me. And while the world was burning around me, I killed the girl I loved. I took a sword…to her back…and I killed her.

"But now she's _here_, and she's alive, and she's here and she _doesn't know_. And she should—she should hate me, because I deserve, so much, to be hated. And if I have to make her cry to make her hate me, then that's what I'll do."

His fists slipping from Vincent's blanket, Cloud slowly lowered the older man to the ground and backed away, picking up Tifa's pillow and crushing it to his chest again.

"She should hate me. Her hate is all I deserve to have of her."

"But, c'mon, it's not like it's all you _want_ of her, right?"

Both Cloud and Vincent whipped around and found Zack, leaning carelessly against the doorframe. He waved a hand in passing and grinned at Cloud. Walking into the room, he patted drywall dust off Vincent and pushed the older man out the door with a quiet, "Thanks, man. Let me take it from here." Vincent went willingly, if a little confused, wandering out the door to find a new corner to sit in.

Shutting the door, Zack leaned against it again. Cloud had his back to him, staring out the window, still clinging to Tifa's pillow.

"You're not gonna talk to me, Cloud?"

Turning his head slightly, Cloud muttered over his shoulder, "As my doctor, it's your obligation to help me, but I don't have to tell you every—"

"Cloud."

Zack stepped closer to Cloud, wishing he could reach out, but knowing that rare gift of touch still belonged only to Tifa. "I'm not just your doctor. I'm your friend. C'mon, Cloud. It's just Zack here. You know you can talk to me."

Very, very slowly, Cloud turned around. His blue eyes were endless, consumed and brimming over with sorrow. "Are sins…ever forgiven?"

With a sigh, Zack tossed himself onto Cloud's bed, kicking his feet up onto the backboard. "The scar on Tifa's back, you mean?" Cloud hummed quietly and nodded. Zack pushed another noisy breath out through his teeth. "I honestly dunno, Cloud."

Cloud gave a single short, humorless laugh before slowly sitting next to Zack, who clicked his tongue lightly. "Hey, did I say I was done talking?" Turning back to him, Cloud lifted a single pale brow. "I don't know how to atone, Cloud. I was a soldier, too. I killed people, too. And I've spent the last three years trying to find some way to pay back for all that I've done.

"And let me tell you, sometimes I look at Aerith and I don't think I deserve her, either." Zack's head was tilted back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, seeing something that wasn't there. "I spent a long time worrying about what she'd think of me if she knew what I'd done. Aerith's terrified of war…"

Cloud rumbled quiet agreement, and then Zack smiled gently, light lilac eyes going soft. "But I cried for her, just once. Only ever the once, but it was pathetic, man. All snotty and messy and I told her everything about what I'd done at war. I was sure she was gonna hate me once she knew what I'd done, or at least be scared of me, or _something_. But she just sat there hugging me the whole time, even though I was too messed up to hold her back. Then, when I was all done with the crying and shit, she just smiled at me. And Aerith has that was of smiling that just makes you feel…whole, you know?" Cloud didn't know, but he knew how Tifa smiled, and if Cloud had ever felt whole, it was in the wake of Tifa's smile.

Heaving a final sigh, Zack levered himself up, swinging his feet off the bed so he was seated by Cloud's side. "Look, what I'm trying to say—sometimes, it doesn't matter whether or not you deserve to be forgiven. It's about whether or not she'll forgive you. Do you trust Tifa enough to put a fragile heart in her hands and ask her not to crush it?"

Cloud was silent.

Zack patted the bed instead of Cloud's shoulder and stood, walking to the door. Just as he moved to open it, Cloud spoke. "Zack?"

"Mm?"

Blue eyes rose, and the silent fury in them had Zack automatically taking two steps back. "How did you know about Tifa's scar?"

Zack's composure lasted for three seconds before he burst out laughing. A low growl tore through Cloud's chest, the blonde man rising into a low stance. Holding up his hands, Zack choked back a few final chuckles. "Possessive one, aren't you?" He smirked and pointed to the security camera in the corner of the room.

Cloud stared at it for a few seconds before muttering, "Shit. Forgot about those."

With a laugh, Zack informed him: "You might be my friend, but I wouldn't trust a monk around that woman." And then he was gone.

Falling back onto the bed, Cloud covered his face with Tifa's pillow again.

_Do you trust Tifa enough to put a fragile heart in her hands and ask her not to crush it?_

"Shit."

…XxX…

"Teefie, are you sad?"

Tifa's head snapped up to find Yuffie, grinning beatifically—as always—bent over her. Pulling a smile onto her lips, she shook her head. "Nah, I'm just still a little bit tired. You're pretty energetic for so early in the morning."

With abnormal focus, Yuffie ignored Tifa's attempt to change the subject. "But you don't _look_ tired! You look sad. Like Vinnie, when he's having one of his 'heart pain' days."

Arching a single black brow, Tifa asked, "Heart pain?"

"Yeah, that's what Vinnie says, anyway. 'Cuz somebody Vinnie loved a lot lot—here—" The young girl pounded the left side of her chest. "That person died, and even though Vinnie didn't get hurt in his body, he loved her so much that it hurts him here." Her hand curled into a circle, as if around the hilt of a knife, and she mimicked stabbing into her chest. "Hurts him so much _he_ wants to die." The cheery grin turned dark, a twisted mockery of happiness, a sorrow forced to smile. "But I really don't want him to die…"

With a slight frown, Tifa patted the floor next to her, and Yuffie sat. Tifa swallowed quickly, then asked, "Yuffie, how exactly do you feel about Vincent?"

Yuffie's head snapped up, a smile on her lips—and Tifa swore it was the first _healthy_ smile she'd seen the girl wear, a genuine expression of pleasure, of contentment. "Well, I like Vinnie, and I like when he holds my hand, and I think he's really pretty."

"Mm-hm."

Yuffie grinned wider, and Tifa sensed her getting into the stride of her speech, hitting a vein that would keep her talking for hours. "Yeah. Yeah, really pretty. But, you know, Vinnie is a serious jerk. He's always staring at me and then he looks away and starts muttering about this other girl—and it's probably that lady he loved all that time ago, yanno? But seriously, why is he always talking about her around me? It's so _mean._ And then—oh, man, then—"

"Tifa."

The dark-haired woman froze.

That voice. That _voice_. That horridly familiar, soft, lulling voice, with all the warmth back in it, all the heat and the gentle fire, and when she turned around to face the voice, the eyes that went with it were paradise blue again, ice gone and melted away like warm water slipping over her skin.

"Tifa, I have to talk to you."

She flicked her hair over her shoulder. "I have nothing to say to you, Cloud Strife."

She could hear his teeth grinding behind her, then his hand closed on her wrist, his grip painfully tight. "Tifa, please. I _need_ to talk to you."

Without looking up, she murmured, "Yuffie, go talk to Vincent. I'll be back later, 'kay?" The younger woman nodded and bounded away to tackle the black-haired man. Tifa took three deep breaths, forcing down the fleshy mass in her throat, that lingering warmth that threatened to strangle her, and looked up at Cloud.

Her eyes were as cold as hardened chocolate and frozen mud.

"All right. Let's go talk."

…XxX…

_A/N_

_Yes, it's a day late, and I'm VERY VERY SORRY. Father caught me up, trying to finish this, and took my laptop again._

_VINCENT VALENTINE, DEFENDER OF WOMEN! *chuckles* I have no idea where this character point sprung from for me. It just seemed sort of Vincent-ish._

_The Cloud VS Vincent fight was surprisingly difficult to write. I originally intended for them to have an all-out screaming match, but after about three versions of that that refused to work, I realized that neither Cloud nor Vincent were really scream-y people to me. So instead they have a growl-off. Very sexy, if I may say so._

_Oh, and Vincent got Aerith to open Cloud's door for him. Since Tifa locked it last chapter. And Zack was watching them fight through the cameras, that's how he knew to come._

_Explanations! They happen! Hooray!_

_I got tired of mystique. Nobody can angst properly when we don't know what they're angsting about._

_Read and review and next chapter will be up Thursday! I SWEAR!_


	9. Her Name

**Review Responses:**

**TenkaCat**: Glad you liked chapter 8! Yes, chapter 9 is chock-full of drama. I hope you enjoy! **City of Dis: **I know it was a bit weird to have Vincent come in like that, but, as you said, who else would do it? I'm very glad you liked my growl-off—it was fun as all crap to write once I got it right. And yeah, Vincent's not quite normal, either. It'll be fleshed out later. **NamioftheSea**: Yeah, Cloud's got some issues. And Tifa really does. She gets to be mean. Also, I haven't got a clue where the blanket came from. But I couldn't give him his cloak if he's supposedly in an asylum, and he needed _something_. **LadyTeefStrife**: I'm glad you're in tune with my characters—the pain of Cloud, the spontaneous chivalry of Vincent…*laugh* And I love reviews where I feel the reader has really grasped what I'm trying to convey, which is what you always make me feel. So thank you!** Iskra revoir**: We must pass this law! I'm glad you liked my different scar scenario—it was just too good to pass up. Hah. I'm afraid there aren't a lot of laughs in this chapter, but I appreciate the plushie love. *snuggles* **itsanobsession92**: A surprising number of people support my chivalrous Vincent! I'm so happy! And I love the eye descriptions—they're fun to write and express a lot. Glad you like my story! **TornAngelWings**: Every time someone complements my update schedule I update late…*weep* Thanks for reading! I'm glad you like it. **shadowneko003**: A lot of people say that, but I think it fits him. He seems like a "I got this, I got this," kind of guy, the type who just fixes everything. Like a doctor. And I'm glad you like the characters and setting—they're weird, and that's why it's fun. **Forget and Forgive:** I'm _honored_. Seriously. And yes, it is very sexy. It was a brief indulgence to the yaoi fangirl within. Ssh… **vLuna**: Sorry to have kept you waiting for this chapter! And yes, the random pillow love was very cute. **Vanilla Raindrops**: I'm so mean to my Vinnie character, aren't I?! He's such a dear. *snuggles Vincent* And yes, it's very…erm…interesting… **kitsune13**: I'm glad you appreciated the exposition—I do try to work it in naturally, I hate random monologue of information. And yes, the tossing each other around really does suit them. It practically wrote itself once I found the vein. The Zack/Cloud relationship is a blast to write, too—friends but not, but kind of still—and Sephiroth has his motivations…so scary…Also, I've got to say I had that happen to me the first time I read Tales Within Tales—I ended up reading until almost three in the morning before realizing I had school in four hours. **Caramel**: Welcome to the group! Glad you like it, and I'll keep posting!

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter Nine: Her Name_

_(Final Fantasy VII does not belong to me. Rather, I belong to it. See, I got it tattooed on my arm! See?!)_

"Tifa…"

Her name was a blessing, a curse, a sick-sweet poison on his lips. Her name was exhaustion and desperation and pain, but he clung to it because her name was the only thing that gave him strength anymore.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall of the hallway, the picture of detachment. "You said you wanted to talk. So talk."

Her eyes, her face, her voice—everything about her had gone cold and far away. Out of his reach. He backed up a few steps, as if putting distance between them would stop the ice from seeping into his body and mind, freezing him.

His lips felt numb as he forced the words from them. "You—I—I have to…tell you…something."

A snort, and she leaned forward, her eyes almost derisive as the raked up and down him. "You call this talking? Whatever you have to say, say it, Strife. I have other patients besides you."

"_Tifa!_" He yelled, fingers clamping down onto her shoulders, holding her tight enough to leave bruises. The arrogance and bravado left her almost immediately, and her teeth caught at her bottom lip as she held back a hiss of pain.

"_Don't push him. He could kill you without meaning to."_

"Let go of me," she ordered, her voice low and authoritative but with as little emotion as she could manage, trying not to betray the slow, seeping terror rising in her.

Those four words—words of distinct rejection and denial—tore through Cloud like a blade through his flesh. Like the scream of darkness through his mind. His soul.

Long fingers slipped from her shoulders, and he backed slowly away until he could turn around and punch the opposite wall, fist breaking easily through the drywall and burying itself up to his fist. "You really don't remember, do you?" He growled, deep and dark in his chest, in a tone so drastically different from his previous that Tifa planted both feet and straightened from shock.

Cloud threw his head back and laughed, black and humorless, laughter from the gallows. Then he whirled again and advanced on Tifa, grinning madly, but his eyes were bleak and depthless against the horrific elation of his expression.

"You really don't remember! You haven't got a clue! I could have moved on and left it all behind, because you don't even _remember!_" Again his head flew back and howled cold laughter, and again there wasn't a thing funny about it, and there wasn't a hint of joy in his eyes.

And his hands lunged for her hips, but she wrenched them out of his grip and he got fistfuls of her shirt instead. She wasn't sure if it made him angry or if it was what he had been aiming for all along because his grin widened until it might have been splitting his face in half, and his arms widened until he was splitting her shirt in half, and cold hospital air and cold, pale hands were against Tifa's bare back.

Cloud's nails scored a path from the base of her ribcage to the top of her shoulder blade, and he took her by the shoulders again and let his fingernails dig in and break her skin while she desperately clung to the tatters of her shirt.

Frozen mud, frozen chocolate eyes looked up and whispered betrayal.

And he screamed.

"I could have left everything behind and just lived in now if it weren't for _this damn scar!_ You walk in here, so clean and so happy and with _this fucking scar_ and you've forgotten _everything!_ How could you just forget like that? How could you just forget _me_ like that?!

"How could you just forget that _I'm the one who killed you?!_"

Frozen mud eyes melted and wept fresh blood.

"You…?"

He laughed again, bitter black blood, and grinned at her.

"Me. You bled because of me. Screamed because of me. Felt so much pain you _lost your memory_.

Because. Of. Me."

Blood welled up and filled her eyes with clear, and he smiled.

"You cried then, too. You never cried but you cried when your back was sliced open, when you fell, and I always did think that you were beautiful when you cried…"

Then her fist was hitting his jaw and his head was snapping back and he was still smiling, and she was running down the hall, clinging to what was still intact of her shirt and refusing to let the tears fall down her cheeks.

And he fell back with the aftershocks of her punch, collapsing flat onto his back and enjoying the harsh slap of tile against taut flesh. It hurt, and his jaw hurt, and it all hurt hurt hurt…

He turned his head to the side and threw up onto the floor before grinning at the ceiling.

Somewhere in the depths of his mind, Cloud Strife was screaming her name.

TIFA.

Her name was a blessing, a curse, a deathly gentle thought whispering through his head. Her name was exhaustion and desperation and overwhelming agony, but he clung to it because it was the only thing that kept him sane anymore.

TIFA.

…

She ran and ran and clutched at shredded fabric, trying to keep herself covered without having to pause.

She was not going to cry. She refused to cry!

_How could you just forget that I'm the one who killed you?!_

She choked on held-back tears and tripped on something in the middle of the hall.

She fell forward…

_Falling forward and her back—her back—oh gods oh gods can't breathe it hurts it HURTS make it stop make it stop make it go away…_

_It's hot it's hot her back is hot and there's wet and its dripping down her back and her face and hotwetHOT…_

_Falling forward, falling and tearing and splitting in half—and looking up—has to be safe, even if she's dying, has to be safe, where…?_

_Where is it…?_

_Falling forward…_

_Looking up…Looking for…_

_Blue?_

Emerald green.

"Tifa?!"

"Aerith," she sobbed, and held too-weak arms out to the older woman. "Please…please help me…"

…XxX…

Zack carried Cloud back to his room while Aerith helped Tifa into fresh clothes and then bed. Both went willingly and dazedly, Cloud having lost his brief insanity and Tifa trying to cope with the shock. When Zack and Aerith met again in the hall, she threw herself into his arms without warning, startling him.

"Um, Aerith, everyone's gonna see…"

"It doesn't matter!" She wailed into his shirt, clutching him tightly. "It's so terrible…they're going to kill each other! Everything is wrong! They shouldn't have to live like this…"

Sighing, Zack wrapped strong arms around Aerith and held her tight while she sobbed against his chest. "They're both just trying to protect themselves…Tifa was in so much pain she locked all her memories away so she could never feel it again, and Cloud was too terrified to tell Tifa what he'd done, so he threw away his sanity so it wouldn't hurt even if she hated him. Neither of them can let go of their barriers…and until they do, they're never gonna be right." He looked down and kissed the top of Aerith's head, smiling when she looked up.

"We have to trust them, Aerith. We have to believe that they'll find some way to be together."

Aerith nodded before leaning her head into the comfortable hollow of his torso, carved perfectly as if to accommodate her. The couple stayed that way for a few minutes, and if anyone saw them embracing, they walked the other way, giving them their privacy, for the hall stayed empty even as long seconds ticked by.

At length, Aerith sighed and murmured up at Zack. "It's all up to Tifa now, isn't it? Whether or not she forgives him…It'll save or break them both."

…XxX…

_How could you just forget that I'm the one who killed you?!_

Her fingers slipped under her shirt and traced the scar on her shoulder, and the scabs his fingernails had only just put there.

_Cloud_.

She felt violated and exposed and injured, like all the skin had been ripped off of her and her insides laid out for display. She curled around herself protectively…but that left her back exposed. Fingers sunk into her hair and rubbed at her scalp in frustration as she tried to wish her throbbing headache away. She'd be able to think so much better without it…

_I'm the one who killed you_.

She whimpered, low in her throat, but couldn't force her lips to form the words of denial she desperately wanted to hear herself say.

It was vague and blurry, just a whisper in the back of her head, but she knew fire and she knew shadows and pain and blue eyes, and she knew that Cloud had been there while she bled. And why would he lie about something like that? Why would he try to blame himself for something he hadn't done? Cloud may have an overdeveloped sense of guilt, but even he wouldn't try to take the fall for a crime that wasn't his.

…And the guilt in his eyes had been undeniable, even while his face laughed around the agony.

No, Cloud wasn't lying. Cloud had taken a sword to her back. Cloud had carved open her skin, her muscle, even cutting deep enough to scratch bone…

A twinge ran down her spine, the faintest of echoes of remembered agony, and she rolled her shoulders as if to ease it away.

But the scar remained.

And nothing would make it go away.

_I'm the one who killed you._

…XxX…

For the first time in three years, he sat down quietly and stopped screaming.

The assistants in the next room would have no idea what to do. They would run for the owner of the hospital, but he wouldn't come right away, because he was busy hugging a girlfriend who needed to be hugged, and no one—not even Sephiroth—interrupted that.

So he would sit quietly for a good long while before anyone would come to ask him why.

He leaned his head against the wall and spoke to the ceiling, in a voice run ragged by twenty-one years of screaming.

"_Regrettable, that_

"_Mother's blood should be wasted_

"_On those such as you."_

A few minutes passed before he licked his lips and spoke again, voice already regaining silken tones it once knew and still faintly remembered—a deep, slow, silken voice, the kind of voice that didn't have to yell to make people listen.

"_Though warned otherwise_

"_We play with fire and are burn._

"_How regrettable."_

He smiled at the ceiling. The smile became a chuckle. The chuckle, a laugh. For the second time in two days, the second time in seven years, he howled at the top of his lungs, because he could feel the pain again, not far away at all, and it was the pain the he lived for and the pain that he craved and the pain that should be exacted upon every single one of them who stole what was rightfully his.

Death was too easy for one such as him.

There must be blood—there must be torture—there must be pain and pain and pain.

Leaning his head back, Sephiroth crowed at the ceiling.

"So, so regrettable…"

…XxX…

_A/N_

_It's late AGAIN._

_This chapter was hell for me. No lie. Someone come and check my pulse because I may just have died and gone to Writing Purgatory._

_I had it all set to release on Thursday, but when I sent the advanced copies to my friends, I realized something._

_IT SUCKED._

_I'm not lying. It really did. I hadn't been in much of a writing mood this week, and it was forced and terrible in a chapter that I really wanted honesty and emotion in. I made a calculated decision. I released a good chapter a few days late rather than a crappy chapter on schedule. I have no regrets._

_Other than that, no notes for this chapter. I'll let it stand on its own._

_And I'm not going to give a day for the next chapter, because it'll just end up late again, but estimate 3-5 days._

_Read and Review, please!_


	10. Paradise Blue

**Review Responses:  
DynastyWARRIORS**: Glad to have you back! I really missed your reviews! Yeah, Cloud got to lose it there. Poor Tifa… Sephy IS waiting on the wings, lurking…*evil laughter* **dark aura12**: Thanks! I try, I try. Stay tuned, please! **Toriga-Okami**: I'm glad you like my story so much! Makes me happy…I suppose last chapter was a bit filler-y, but it was necessary and very emotional for both of them, so it really had to happen. More plot in this one, I promise. **NamioftheSea**: Yeah, he has…the only problem is he LOOKS saner now…Glad you liked the update! **TenkaCat**: I know, poor Cloudy…we must hug him. I hope you like this chapter! **vLuna**: I know, he's so dumb. Still, it seemed very 'Cloud' to muck things up while trying to fix them…it's all up to Tifa now. *wink* **LadyTeefStrife**: Again you capture the very essence of my chapter and make me squee with joy! Pain, pain, pain…what painful people. Tifa is getting a bit of memory, but it's still fuzzy. And as for fluff…read on… **Kurogane7**: Sorry, I don't have a clue who that character is. Never heard of it…Also, if you subscribe, you get a bit of my soul. It's the running deal. PLEASE… **AnimePrincess411**: Thanks; it is an obscene amount of fun. I like asylums, too, but I also try to keep everybody in character…I'm glad you think I do well! *blush* **Darkhorse666**: Thank you, darling. Also, "it's so god?" Thanks. My story is now omniscient. **Truth-Unspoken**: Thanks—I LOVE parallels, they're just fun to throw in. I'm glad you like my descriptions, I love writing them. Thanks for tuning in and keep reading! ******: Yeah, Cloud could use some forgiving at this point…they both deserve hugs and shakes. I'm honored you said you liked my story so much. And that you reviewed for me—reviews are what keep me going when I've lost inspiration. You, darlings, are my muses… **kerapal bubbles**: I'm so glad! I spent a really long time making sure chapter 9 drooled emotion from every word, and I hope this one will, too!

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter 10: Paradise Blue_

_(I'm afraid I DO own FFVII, actually, and yes, this means I own Cloud. I keep him locked in the basement with the rest of the harem.)_

Yuffie, although a tad over exuberant at times, listened when she was told to do something. (When it was something she wanted to do, that is.)

So when Tifa told her to go keep Vincent company while Tifa had her little chat with Cloud, the small young woman happily bounded over into the tall man's arms.

He didn't respond when she pried his legs away from his body so she could settle into the curve of him, didn't speak when she threw her arms around his torso and snuggled into his chest.

But when she looked up and sang, "Vinnie, I'm _cold,_" he reached for the blanket he wore fastened around his shoulders and threw it over the both of them, and his legs tightened slightly, bringing her a little bit closer to his body, and his warmth.

Yuffie giggled, pleased, and snuggled into him.

For a few minutes they sat like that, letting their communal body heat warm the small space beneath the blanket, but Yuffie wasn't good with sitting for very long, and before much time had passed she was fiddling—with her fingers, her toes, the ends of Vincent's hair.

When she tugged very lightly on his overlong bangs, he finally tilted his head to look at her. Amber eyes flowed with liquid warmth, and Yuffie blushed, giggling again, under his stare. Her bruised-plum eyes were warm and wet, staring up at him, and Vincent swallowed despite himself.

Her voice pitched high and singsong, Yuffie trilled, "Vinnie's really pretty, you know, right?" Her fingers combed through his hair happily, sorting out the disordered black strands, and his lower lip twitched.

The motion caught Yuffie's eyes, and, without quite getting how, she found herself staring at his mouth. His lips were pretty pale, somewhere between peach and lilac, and they weren't full but they weren't thin either, and they looked soft.

So Yuffie stretched up and kissed him flat on the lips.

They _were_ soft!

Chuckling happily, she pulled away, her eyes finding his again. Vincent took two hard breaths before growling quietly, "Please, don't do that again."

Yuffie's lower lip pouted out petulantly, and abruptly Vincent was staring at her, reliving the feel of that lip pressed to his own, soft and round and full, and almost painfully sweet…

She shifted carefully so that she was straddling his lap rather than curled in it, and made sure the blanket was still flung over them, hiding them in their own private, warm world.

Body heat and pulsing heartbeats raised the temperature inside their enclosure, and a bead of sweat dripped off Vincent's temple. Enthralled and delighted by this, Yuffie leaned in and licked the perspiration from his cheek, her tongue lightly brushing his cheek.

Vincent caught her head between long-fingered hands and snarled, amber eyes going angry, but still warm. "Yuffie, I told you to stop that."

She pouted again for a brief moment before she broke into a wide grin. Leaning carefully forward, she eased herself up Vincent's lap, delighting in the way he swallowed as her hips worked over his. Her face drew close to his, her diminutive stature given a boost by her position in his lap.

When she was scant inches away from him, she opened her mouth carefully wide and breathed her next words over his skin: "But I don't _want_ to stop, Vincent…"

Then she kissed him again. Lovely and insistent.

His lips were really, really soft.

Her lips truly were as soft and sweet as they looked…

Several hours later, when Yuffie had crawled out from under his blanket to amuse herself elsewhere, Vincent Valentine would lie there, contemplating to himself, and realize that had been the first time she'd ever called his full name.

He would realize her rather liked the sound of it falling from her lips.

He would realize he liked the feel of those lips against his own even better.

…XxX…

_Do you trust Tifa enough to put a fragile heart in her hands and ask her not to break it?_

He did.

He really did trust her. More than anyone or anything in the world—including himself. He would trust her with his mind, his body, his heart—his whole life was hers if she wanted it. All she had to do was ask, and he'd lay everything he had at her feet…

Everything that he was, was hers.

He really did trust her.

That's why he was here, fingernails carving gouges out of her door as he tried to force himself to turn the handle.

He did trust her with himself. He knew she wouldn't break him intentionally. But he didn't know if she could forgive him, and a false smile was even worse than hatred.

He'd been trying to fix everything and had shattered it all instead. And now he had to leave it to her to pick up the pieces, or leave them on the floor, where they would cut and cut until they were ground into dust.

But he really did trust her.

So he turned the handle.

Inside, she was curled up at the head of her bed, leaning against the backboard, legs drawn to her chest, arms folded around her knees. Raspberry-chocolate eyes stared blankly ahead, not refocusing as he stepped into the room and closed the door. Her face was creased with confusion and contemplation, her lips thinned as she pressed them together in frustration.

And she was so beautiful…

Her name rose in his chest and throat, bubbling up, and poured out over his lips like boiling water, all heat and steam and crystal clear.

"Tifa…"

She didn't respond.

Very slowly, he walked over to the bed, making sure his every step was clear and emphasized, so she could stop him if she wanted to. But Tifa made no move or sound to halt him, and he climbed carefully up onto the bed, kneeling in front of her.

Blood and wine, unfocused, continued to stare through him, as if he weren't there at all.

His brows knotted and his eyes narrowed. Pale fingers, trembling, came up to lightly trace her jaw.

"…Tifa…?"

Her breath rushed out against his fingertips, and her eyes blinked several times as she struggled to focus. At length her eyes settled on his face, then widened in slight shock at his proximity. "Cloud?"

He exhaled in a rush.

"Where'd you go, Tifa? Don't go away like that…" With his fingertips, he smoothed the creases from her brow, then traced down her temples to her cheeks, drawing a path over her cheekbones. She sighed and turned her face into his palm.

"Warm," she breathed, rubbing her head back and forth against the curve of his hand.

He grunted quietly. "That's you," he corrected quietly. His right hand continued down the side of her neck, coming to rest lightly on her left shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he turned his head to look at the damage there.

Her tank top exposed her whole shoulder—scar tissue, and scabs and small bruises from his own hands. He still had blood under his fingernails…

Groaning, he let his head fall onto her shoulder, his left hand slipping down to cup her neck. Tifa stiffened slightly from surprise, and Cloud rubbed his forehead against her scar, breath hot against her bare skin.

"Every time," he murmured, only barely loud enough to still be directed at her. "Every time I try to make things better, I only hurt you again…I tried to protect you then, and I killed you…I try to explain myself now, and I've gone and bruised you and made you cry again…"

His left hand slipped around her neck to clench in the hair at her nape, and he lifted his head to stare her dead in the eyes.

Blood wines and sin…

_Paradise blue_…

"You are beautiful when you cry, Tifa. You're _always_ beautiful." His voice and eyes betrayed bottomless sorrow as he spoke. "But I would never want you to cry. _Ever._ I just—I—" Midway through the sentence, his voice failed, breaking off into silence, and he turned his face away.

Gentle fingertips found his jaw and turned his face back up to hers, and eyes like chocolate were melted and warm and slipping over him like heat turned to liquid, the most beautiful drowning sensation, drowning in warm.

Warm he'd desired for so long without the hope to ask for…

"I'm sorry."

Words he'd been waiting to say for seven years. His arms tightened compulsively, clutching her to him, her legs trapped between them, but he didn't care, he just held her as tight as he possibly could and buried his face into her hair because she smelled like soft and sweet and warm.

"I'm so sorry. Gods, Tifa…" And then, so quietly he himself could barely hear it: "_My_ Tifa…"

His voice rose again when he continued. "I couldn't help it. I couldn't control it. I was just a kid, Tifa, and you jumped in front of me trying to protect me, and the sword was too heavy, and…I'm so sorry. I wanted to sit there and hold you while you died, I wanted to kill him as revenge for you, I just wanted your beautiful eyes to open again, even if it was only one more time…"

"Stop it."

The words were almost silent, murmured against his throat, and he felt the vibrations against his skin more than he heard the sound coming out of her mouth.

Tifa shoved him away, and his arms slipped from her shoulders, falling to his sides because he didn't have the strength to hold them up anymore.

He didn't want to be turned away…

He really did trust her.

Uncurling from her fetal position, she straightened onto her knees before grabbing his shoulders and pulling him up, too. When he complied and knelt in front of her, she placed a hand on either side of his jaw, fingers working into his hair, and looked him dead in the eyes.

Chocolate and roses and darkness…

_Paradise blue_.

"Stop saying that, Cloud," she ordered, and her tone allowed no argument.

His hands came up to settle on her hips, and he mumbled, "Saying what?"

Her fingers yanked gently on the hair at his nape, a tender reprimand. She looked up at him and whispered. "Stop saying that you killed me."

One of her hands moved to take his right from her hip. She pulled it upwards and laid his palm over the center of her chest.

He could feel her heartbeat pounding under his fingers…

Tifa gently placed her hand over his own, cupping his face with the other. "Feel that?" she whispered, voice soft and soothing and completely sure. "I'm alive, Cloud. I'm alive, and I'm right here. A scar is just a scar. A memory is just a memory. This is me. This is Tifa Lockhart. I'm here, and I'm alive, and I'm never going to leave you again."

With that, she fell into his arms.

Cloud crushed her to him, and their body heat poured together. She sighed and felt her every muscle ease in the heat of him, like the first swim in the clear ocean water on a much-needed vacation. The strong, gentle warmth seeped into her, filling her all the way to her bones, and the smell of him was in her nose and the solid strength of him in her arms, and Cloud, Cloud, Cloud.

His voice was throaty and heated when he whispered, choked, into her hair. "Tifa…Tifa, Tifa…"

She had better hearing than he gave her credit for. "_Your_ Tifa," she whispered into his shoulder.

For a moment he stiffened from surprise before chuckling quietly and gathering her tighter. Nose buried in the soft, dark hair at the top of her head, he whispered the vow over and over again into her hair and her smell and her eyes.

"_My_ Tifa…"

…XxX…

_A/N_

_Oh, dear, has it been five days already? Slow me…_

_I hope this chapter oozes fluff the way I intended it to. I love Cloud and Tifa being cute…*snuggles*_

_This is another one of those chapters that went through three drafts before it even was TYPED. Then it had another two. Gods, sometimes these dang characters just DO NOT COOPERATE._

_Also, remember last time when I said chapter 9 was writing purgatory? I lied. Essay writing is the creative author's purgatory. THEY KILL MY CREATIVE SOUL._

_Official VincentXYuffie kiss! I have no idea where that came from, but then, I never seem to know a thing when it comes to those two…_

_And one thing I forgot to mention last chapter—me being ignorant of Genesis at the time this fic was begun, he's not included here. Having learned about him since, I've decided Sephiroth is going to inherit his awesome trait of poetry-spouting. Why? Because it is kickass, obviously._

_Read and review and 3-5 days before next chapter!_


	11. It Hurts

**Review Responses:**

**NamioftheSea:** Truly, 'twas quite the monumental chapter. I know, the poetry spouting _is_ pure awesome. **kerapal bubbles:** The Yuffentine is oddly popular. I end up working more and more in without realizing… **dark aura12**: ANY review is a proper review, trust me. I'm glad you like the story! Sorry to make you wait so long for this update… **Kurogane7**: Very confused Vincent. Very very very confused. And yes, Cloud and Tifa are improving, FINALLY. **LadyTeefStrife**: As usual your review makes my day. I wanted it to be a moment of: "WHATNOTIFA?" then "Oh, is okay." They're big on trust, these two—_love it_. **TornAngelWings**: yeah, sorry. It's just too late for him to show up now! *for shame* Maybe next fic. Glad you like the Yuffentine, it's a BLAST to write. **Kitsune13**: yeah, I'm realizing more and more that Cloud doesn't have a clue about boundaries around Tifa. And you're right about the Yuffentine—it's just cute, my main focus is Cloud and Tifa. Touching and trust are their main points to me, and warmth is really, really big for them—they're just melty people. And I'm glad the analogy worked, as I was writing that I wasn't sure how it was gonna go over. It's good to know it went well. **ohsnapples**: Pwease don't torch my house…although if the computer lives, I might be fine…SORRY FOR THE WAIT! **vLuna**: They may just be worse, who even knows with these people…sigh…fluffly fluff, it was quite the fluff chapter, but we have to brace ourselves for some drama now. **Darkhorse666**: Yes, I love you too, darling. And you WAIT for your make out scene! THEY MAKE OUT WHEN THEY MAKE OUT. Be patient! **Vanilla Raindrops:** Is okay, you reviewed this time! And yes, yes he is. I do love the crap out of Yuff and Vin—just fun. Fun fun. I know about the crawling away—it just seemed so very her. Sorry about the Grey's Anatomy…I actually love that show…And 'Poor Cloud' about sums it up.

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter 11: It Hurts_

_(I own two doggies and an imaginary pony, but I'm afraid I don't own FFVII. Can you just IMAGINE the canon if I did?)_

"Would you two please quit with the emotional intercourse and get out of there? I don't like you _doing_ these things where I can't see…"

Tifa snorted into Cloud's shoulder. "Emotional intercourse?"

Raising his voice without releasing Tifa, Cloud called: "We're a bit busy. And if you were peeping on us, I'd kill you."

On the other side of the door, Zack laughed. "I believe I already mentioned obscene overprotective tendencies?"

Cloud chuckled, nuzzling his face lightly in Tifa's hair, his way of saying he was going to let her go. Tifa squeezed him once in acceptance as Zack continued talking on the other side of the door. "Seriously, if I open this door, am I gonna get an eyeful I don't want? Although, the benefits of seeing Tifa might weigh out the mentally scarring sight of Cloud…"

Abruptly, the blonde man was off the bed, pulling the door open. While Zack blinked, startled, Cloud somehow managed to bring a gentle blush to his cheeks and pout out one of his hips. Batting long blonde eyelashes, he raised a pale hand to his face with a demure frown, and hesitantly whispered, "Is there…something wrong with my body, Zack?"

By the time they were through laughing, Zack was on the floor, howling, and Tifa was clutching her sides in agony, crying into her sheets. Cloud surveyed their hysteria with a look of supreme self-importance before stomping heavily on the ground next to Zack's head. "You were interrupting us _why_?"

Rolling onto his back, Zack suppressed a few latent chuckles to grin at Cloud. "Barrett dropped off Denzel and Marlene to spend the afternoon. They demand to know if you and Tifa have made up, so they can play with you."

Slowly, Cloud's expression darkened. "They do know…I mean, that I…you know." The last words came out as an irritated growl, but both Zack and Tifa knew that his anger was directed inwards, not at them, and it took the sting out of his tone.

Zack only grinned in response. "Yeah, they know not to touch you. Apparently that's part of the game, somehow or other."

One of the rare, barely there smiles tweaked the corners of Cloud's mouth. A quiet chuckle escaped him, and he stepped away to allow Zack the room to stand.

The taller man regained his feet before sighing and grimacing slightly. "Look, Tifa, I hate to ask this right when your family showed up, but can you make some quick rounds and make sure everybody's someplace they ought to be? I've got Aerith working somewhere else already, and I've got to be there with Cloud in case one of the kids slips up and touches him…No offense, man."

Cloud shrugged a single shoulder. "None taken."

Tifa sighed and nodded. "Well, I have been sulking in my room all morning. I suppose I should do _something_ to earn my pay, right? Just check and make sure everyone's where they should be, right? I can manage that."

Zack released a quick smile, relieved. Pounding on the doorframe, he called to Cloud. "C'mon, man, let's go entertain some children." With that, he walked out the door, not-so-subtly giving Cloud and Tifa one last moment alone.

Turning back to her, Cloud touched her cheek lightly before trailing his hand through her hair, the thick blackness slipping through his fingers smoothly. Blue eyes caught red-brown, and Cloud held her gaze as he lifted the ends of her hair to his lips, kissing it very lightly. Tifa blushed instantly, going cherry red from neck to hairline, and another tiny smile flirted on Cloud's mouth as he turned and left the room without another word.

…XxX…

It hurts.

It hurts.

You liked it. You can't deny that. You're an unfaithful bastard who doesn't deserve the air in his lungs, because she kissed you and _you liked it._

You're disgusting.

You deserve to die.

Is _this_ the depth of your devotion?

There's got to be some way. Death—it hides everywhere—there's got to be some way. If you die, it won't hurt anymore, and you'll be able to see her again, and even if she doesn't forgive you you'll have the rest of eternity to beg for her forgiveness.

There's got to be a way.

The bed is bolted to the floor, but it's bolted with square metal plates, and those have sharp enough edges…

You can pull one up. It's not as if you don't have the strength. _She_ gave you that strength…she gave you so much, but you enjoyed the kiss of another woman…

You're disgusting.

You deserve to die.

Pull it up—it comes just as easily as you thought it would. The edges may not be blades, but they'll suffice for what you have in mind.

Where to cut? Where to cut?

Throat? No…too quick. Prolong the pain. You deserve the pain. Wrists should do it. Was it vertical or horizontal cuts that killed?

Vertical. Must be. Too much tendon and muscle to go through otherwise…

Corner to your skin. It's cold. Just like her. She was always so cold…

Push, and drag.

It hurts.

It hurts.

There's blood…But there was blood when she died, wasn't there? You weren't there, but you know. She died giving birth to that child that might have been yours, might have been another man's—and you'll never know if it was your baby that killed her.

But it hurts.

_It hurts._

"Holy _shit_, Vincent!!"

Damn. They've found you. Again. Maybe it'll be too late this time?

"_Cloud! Cloud, help!_"

Who is that? You know it's not _her_, and it's not the one who kissed you, either. Neither of them would call to Cloud for help, because you remember Cloud in the test tube next to yours, and Cloud was nearly as screwed up as you were…

"No, Cloud, don't let them see this—Marlene, don't _look_! I need bandages and a tourniquet! Vincent, Vincent, can you hear me?! Vincent!"

There's cloth tearing and hands on your arm and you try to pull away, try to keep bleeding, but something slaps you in the face and you don't have the strength to move anymore…

You're just…so weak…

She tried to make you strong but she only made you weaker, and then she _died_…

It hurts.

It hurts.

You find yourself collapsing, and you throw your arms around the waist of the woman sitting in front of you, because she's not either of them and so she makes _sense_, and you know instinctively that this woman will never turn you away. And it's true—she doesn't, even when you're smearing blood all over her clothes and weeping onto her thighs, she pats your shoulders and pulls your head up to cradle it against her chest as a larger pair of hands begins to wrap bandages around your arm.

It might've been your child that killed her.

When she died, you should have died, too.

You've been telling yourself that all this time.

But somewhere, you know it wasn't.

And you know that you shouldn't.

Even as you're crying, you hear the voice in the door.

"…Vinnie…?"

You look up and can see her through the tears, short and small and black, black hair and bleeding plum eyes, and—are those tears?

Can she even cry?

You never knew…

You never wanted to live for anyone but her, you never knew you could _want_ something this terribly…

You wrap yourself tighter around the one woman who isn't threatening, the one woman who makes any sense in what's left of your shattered world, and you sob and sob and bleed.

You never wanted to die…

It hurts.

It hurts.

…XxX…

Vincent was still wrapped around her waist, and even though he'd passed out from blood loss, his grip on her was too tight to be undone. Tifa sat as still and calmly as she could, rubbing carefully at Vincent's back and shoulders while Zack stitched and bandaged the deep cut on his arm. Aerith was in the hallway, having come from wherever she'd been working before, and had an arm wrapped around each of Tifa's siblings, their heads buried in her shoulders.

Cloud stood unmoving, his expression horrified, in the doorway.

And just behind Cloud, Yuffie had fallen to the ground.

When she tried to stand, her feet fell out from underneath her. Seeming shell-shocked, she crawled into the room, hands and knees smearing Vincent's blood across the floor without her seeming to notice. Even though she felt bad for doing it, Tifa didn't look at the younger girl's face—it would be so terrible to see the ever-present grin in a situation like this.

So when the first drops of clear moisture fell onto her hands, she almost didn't realize what was occurring.

Yuffie's hands fisted in the blanket Vincent wore on his shoulders, and her eyes were wide, pupils dilated around her tears, her mouth open and twisted so it was impossible to tell if she was grinning or howling. Thick, hot tears fell rapidly down her cheeks, slipping from her jaw line and nose to fall onto Vincent's shoulder and Tifa's knees.

Wide mouth working for a moment, the woman whispered.

"…Why…?"

Then she gave way and fell onto Vincent, her arms going around his torso even as Zack protested halfheartedly. Rubbing her tears into his blanket, Yuffie wailed: "Why, Vincent, why? I kiss you and you try to kill yourself?! And then I come and you're holding on to Teefie while you barely have a glance for me? I don't understand!" she wept, voice rising and cracking on the final word. "I don't _understand!_"

Marlene peeked out at the crying girl from under Aerith's arm, nine-year-old eyes going wide with concern. With the grace developed by young troublemakers, she slipped from Aerith's embrace, carefully walking over to hug Yuffie around the waist.

The young woman sobbed harder in response, but the muscles of her back and arms eased with the additional warmth. Tifa, proud of her baby sister, leaned forward to kiss the side of Marlene's head. Bright young eyes looked up at her older sister, and slim little-girl arms tightened on Yuffie.

Denzel, beginning to feel awkward in Aerith's grip, wriggled out of her grasp as well, going to join his little and big sisters. Tifa he leaned against, drawing strength from the comforting presence of her, and his hands reached out to gently rub over Marlene's back, soothing and strong, much tougher than a thirteen-year-old boy should be.

The sudden departure of the two children left Aerith feeling oddly lonely. She crawled over to kneel behind Zack, folding her arms around his shoulders and leaning her forehead into his shoulder. The change was subtle, but a measure of peace slipped across the tall man's face, and his big hand slipped backwards to grip her thigh, squeezing reassurance.

From where he stood in the doorway, Cloud choked on the bitter taste in his mouth.

Even surrounded by family and friends, he could see Tifa was still troubled—and his most basic instincts told him to go to her, to soothe that worry, to massage and warm her muscles until the tension hidden there leaked away. But his conscious mind knew and reminded: if he so much as brushed someone else's arm while holding Tifa, he'd go wild and attack them all.

The sourness rose in his throat like bile, and he turned from the doorway and walked away, feeling cold inside.

He desperately wanted to be a part of the warmth they all shared.

Pacing down the hall, the corners of his eyes noted two attendants entering a room he'd never before seen open. One called: "We've come to bring you some food, Sephiroth."

It was the name—

The curse—

The single and only word that could ever give him pause.

He whirled on his heel and caught a glimpse inside as the iron door closed. It was too fast—and no one else would have caught a thing in that split instant, but too-fast, too-sharp eyes saw what was within.

Silver hair.

Arrogant green eyes.

Pale lips twisted with a cruel smile.

_Sephiroth_.

He fell to his knees and felt true vomit choking in his mouth, and his stomach heaved and emptied its contents onto the hallway floor, again and again until he was gasping for air and sweating and choking, and there was nothing left in his stomach to throw up.

…

Five minutes later, Zack Fair walked down the hall and found Cloud Strife collapsed in a pool of his own vomit, trembling and wide-eyed, like a frightened child.

The black-haired man sighed. "Can't go ten minutes in this place without _some_ sort of catastrophe…"

Heaving Cloud off the floor, Zack carried the other man to his room, calling over his shoulder: "Cleanup on aisle three!"

…XxX…

_A/N_

_And it is overdue. Again._

_I'm thinking this may shift to closer to a weekly schedule. In any case, I'm just going to stop saying when the next chapter is due. My inner procrastinator instinctively needs to break these limits._

_Poor Cloud. He is left out of the communal glomming._

_Poor Vincent. He tried to commit suicide. Again._

_Poor EVERYBODY, man._

_And to answer a question I've been asked a rather troubling amount of times: yes, Sephiroth is in the same hospital. I mentioned it in chapters one and two—but I don't blame you, I hate those chapters. I keep meaning to re-write them._

_Apologies for late chapter and horrific drama—it has a point, I SWEAR—and please read and review and I'll see you next chapter!_


	12. Green Glass

**Review Responses:**

**Kurogane7: **He really was quite confused…there was so much to blame himself for, but he was never sure if he _should_. Poor man. Yuffie's gonna help him, never fear. **LadyTeefStrife**: I know, I'm so mean to my Cloudy, and I LOVED that hair-kiss, and poor Vincent, he's so sad. Yes, Zack is in for quite the trial by fire, and his motivations will be explained this chapter, too. Thanks as always for the fantabulous review! **Darkhorse666**: Darling, it's me. How un-depressing could it ever be? **TenkaCat**: You read into it quite well. EVERYTHING here is connected, and Cloud, Sephiroth, and Cloud's haphaephobia are no exceptions. Vinnie deserves his sympathy, too—man is so abused. Glad you liked Zack, stuff like that really DOES happen too often to him. **NamioftheSea**: Yeah, silly Vin. Also, yes, that was quite, quite ew. Nasty, Cloud. **Iskra revoir:** Human touch is big for these people, they like to glomp, what can I say…I'm glad you're interested—THAT is the reason I write. **vLuna**: Yep, some truths come to light…Zackiiie, you got some 'splaining to do! **sage:** Thanks for joining up—I do TRY to update quickly…*weep* **dark aura12**: No, no, it was funny. I ended up laughing for fifteen minutes after reading it, no lie. I'm just glad you like my story. **Vanilla Raindrops**: I AM a character torturer, and I don't deny it. But you like it and you know it. Also, Cloud IS going to get himself a motorcycle at one point. And his sword's around somewhere. He's just not CLOUD otherwise, yanno? Glad you liked the jokes, I wanted SOMETHING to lighten the drama. **Kitsune13**: Yeah, Zack's just a good guy like that, you know? Cloudy and exclusion…he'll find his way in one of these days. And I'm glad you appreciate the darkness of Vincent's suicide—it really is just a terrible thing, just sick and nasty and dark. I wanted to get a grasp of how torn up he was inside, but make sure we knew how equally torn up that made everybody else. A lot of the patients are very self-centered right now—they're focused on their own pain without realizing how they hurt the people that love them. I'm glad you thought I pulled it off—I tried really hard.

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter 12: Green Glass_

_(In the beginning, God created the heaven and earth, and that was cool. Then he made FFVII, and that was even cooler. Then he realized that it wasn't cool enough yet, because Cloud and Tifa hadn't made out. And that was not cool. So then he invented fanfiction, and that was the COOLEST! And so you see, unless I've finally perfected apotheosis, I can't own FFVII, can I?)_

After he had hauled Cloud to the medical wing, Zack returned to finish cleaning up the rather severe mess that was Vincent. With some difficulty, he managed to wrestle the thinner man off of Tifa and into the bed before hooking him up to a blood transfusion and I.V. drip. Only a slight sigh betrayed his reluctance when he produced a set of handcuffs and locked Vincent to the arm of the bed. When Yuffie squealed a protest, the doctor just raised a weary hand. "Please, Yuffie. He just attempted _suicide_. There's no telling what he'll do when he wakes up—it's just safer this way. Please."

The young ninja whimpered her displeasure, but settled next to Vincent's bedside without further prodding.

Heaving a sigh, Zack walked to the door. "Tifa, come with me—Cloud's going to need you around when he wakes up. And Aerith—"

"I'll stay here," she interrupted, fingers idly combing through Marlene and Denzel's hair. "At least until Barret comes to pick these two up."

Zack shrugged amiably. "Sure, that's fine. C'mon, Lockhart, let's go see about Cloud."

With a quick kiss to each of their foreheads, Tifa told her younger siblings goodbye. The two children looked a little disappointed, but understanding—they knew sometimes their big sis had other people to take care of first.

Yuffie, sitting next to Vincent's bed, looked up at Aerith. "Why'd ya stay here, Aerie?" she asked, her voice not so bright and her smile far more tremulous than it would have been normally. Tears still slipped quietly down her cheeks, betraying the distress hidden behind the false cheer.

Aerith shook her head and began to gnaw lightly on the end of her braid, a nervous habit she'd picked up ages ago. "I don't know," she murmured around the hairs in her mouth. "It's just that—whenever I'm around Cloud, or Tifa, I can feel their pain, almost like a headache or soreness…and it's the same with the brothers, but less so, and sometimes I think I feel it from Zack, too. But Vincent—I never feel a thing from Vincent, or from you. It's so _strange_."

The younger woman didn't really understand, but the subject was quickly lost when Marlene moved from Aerith's side. Soft little hands pulled Yuffie's out of her lap, lifting them over the edge of the bed to lay her fingers over Vincent's. When the woman turned to look at her, Marlene glared sternly back with wide-chestnut eyes that were all innocence and sincerity.

"You have to hold his hand," she ordered, her high voice as commanding as she could make it. "When we found Denzel, he was real sick, too, but I held onto his hand and so he came back. Okay? You hafta hold on! If you keep holding his hand, there's no way he's not gonna come back to you. I know he will!"

Plum-bruise eyes were wide and weeping, chestnut narrowed and determined. Marlene patted the joined hands resting on the bed once more before turning and walking back to Denzel's side. When she leaned lightly against his arm, he carefully reached out to twine their fingertips together. There was a proud smile on his face and something a little stronger than older-brother-affection in his eyes.

Next to the bed, Yuffie's little hand clenched tightly over Vincent's long fingers, and the wavering smile on her lips quavered and broke, her tears exploding and flowing full force down her cheeks once more. "You heard that, right, Vincent? I'm not gonna let go of your hand…so you gotta come back, okay? You gotta come back to me…"

…XxX…

I'm scared.

Scared scared scared scared scared…

He's here. Why is he here?! He should be dead, why isn't he dead, Zack told me he was dead, gods, can he even be killed?!

I'm scared.

I'm cold and scared and NO, I don't want to be back here again, here is hell and cold and green, needles and scalpels and horror, terror, death. I'm scared, scared and scarred and there's only me left alive anymore except for the guy dying in the next tube over, and for some reason the long black hair and amber eyes are somehow familiar but I'm too scared to think about where I've seen them before. I push my hands through glowing green liquid and touch glass, cold glass, and HELP, PLEASE, please let me out? Don't make me fight, I don't want to die, but I can't get out. The glass is cold and no matter where I turn there's needles and scalpels and tubes and glass, and cold, cold, cold—

I'm scared—

I'm cold—

"Cloud?"

Warm…?

Warm warm warm, that voice that whispers of reassurance and gentle hands and long dark hair and endless dark, warm eyes…

So safe. So warm.

"C'mon, Cloud. Come back. You're all right. You don't have to hide. Come on out. I'm right here, Cloud."

Safe?

If she says it's safe, it's safe. If she is safe, it's safe. I trust that. I trust her…

It's warm…

And I open my eyes.

…

Cloud slowly blinked, and Tifa sighed relief when his eyes refocused on her face, the blue lighting up to life again.

His mouth worked in silence for a few seconds, his eyes wide, until he sat up and pulled her close, nuzzling his face into the softness of her stomach. She eeped in quiet surprise before smiling and lowering her hands to his head, pulling them through his hair. He hummed gently, the vibrations traveling up her abdomen and resonating inside her chest. She cooed gently in return, tone familiar and soothing.

Without removing his face from Tifa's stomach, Cloud growled. "Zack."

The doctor sighed from where he sat on the next cot. "I'm sorry, Cloud."

"You lied to me."

Tifa's hands stilled in Cloud's hair, asking without words. She didn't understand what the two men were discussing and wanted an explanation. Cloud nuzzled her tummy and squeezed her hips lightly in apology, and whispered: "Please, just hold onto me. I need this." By way of response, her hands dropped to his shoulders, slender fingers clenching into the muscle there.

Zack scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Yeah, I lied. You were pretty unstable back then, I didn't want to risk your condition."

A dubious snort answered. "Sure. And he's been here all this time…and you never told me."

Punching the bed in frustration, Zack yelled: "Dammit, Cloud! You were unstable then and you're unstable now. You saw the man for a split second and just look at you! For the past fifteen minutes you've been wrapped up in some panicked hallucination that I couldn't wake you from, and now you're clinging to Tifa because you know that as soon as she's gone, you can't tell the difference between what's in your head and what's real!"

Cloud was trembling against Tifa by the time Zack had calmed, his hands clenched tightly into her sides, and she could feel the grinding of his teeth in her abdomen. Breathing heavily, Zack walked to the door, his hands curled into tight fists. Against the doorframe, he paused, his back rigid and tense, but his manner seemed apologetic rather than hostile.

"You were asleep in the hospital for two weeks, Cloud. No one knew what to do with you. I didn't want to see you sent to jail or to some shitty asylum where they'd never take care of you. The government pays for the upkeep of the Help Center, just so long as I keep Sephiroth here. Everything I did, I did for your sake, Cloud."

As he spoke, the tension and strength leached from his shoulders, until he was stooped and worn, his back bowed with weary weakness. "You might have been strong enough to break out of the tube, Cloud. But you can't get your head out. Even now, you're too weak to get free. Your mind is still trapped in their test tube."

With that, he walked out the door.

"Ah—Zack!" Tifa called, moving to follow, but Cloud's arms didn't release her waist, and she couldn't move.

Abruptly Zack popped back into view, his familiar grin and easy comedy magically restored. "Right, Tifa, stay with him, all right? And make him explain things to you. Don't let him weasel out of it." He made a clicking sound with his cheek, saluted with two fingers, and flounced off.

Dumbfounded, Tifa gaped after the departed doctor for a moment, wondering how he'd managed to regain his blithe attitude so quickly. After a moment she turned back to the blonde man who still had strong arms banded around her waist. "Cloud?" She asked quietly.

He shook his head against her, whining quietly. After a moment, he withdrew, sliding to the side of the bed and lifting the covers. When she lifted an eyebrow, he just shook the blankets in his hand, indicating that she should climb under. "It's getting late anyway," he muttered. "And Zack's right. Before I can hold you to your promise—you need to know this."

Without any particular reason, Tifa thought she might throw up.

…XxX…

As he walked down the hall, the grin slipped away, the blithe demeanor fading, his shoulders once again stooping and his posture weakening. By the end of the hall he was shuffling rather than his normal elegant lope, head bowed and back hunched.

"Zack, are you all right?" The gentle voice was soothing to tired muscles, cool water to his aching head. Without looking up he reached out, and Aerith's hips came into his hands as if they'd always been there, natural and a part of him, and he tugged her forward to rest her in the curve of his body, gently leaning some of his tired weight on her.

Thin fingers traced through shaggy black hair as she supported him carefully, not questioning. "I can feel it," she whispered into his chest. "I can feel your pain…"

"I lost my temper," he explained in a groan, pulling her tighter against him. "Three years I haven't once yelled at these people, and I lose my temper now, just when things are finally starting to happen…"

Aerith cooed gently, her voice a wordless reassurance, and Zack felt soothed despite himself as careful fingernails scraped lightly over his scalp, touch teasing and satisfying as one. "It's all right…it's just fine…everyone loses their temper sometimes, Zack…it'll be fine, Tifa will help him."

Zack snorted grumpily into her hair. "Yeah, the new attendant will help him, but his doctor can't. That's just great."

Unexpectedly, Aerith's response was a quiet laugh. "Oh, Zack Fair, now you're just _trying_ to be mean to yourself. Don't you know what Tifa is to him?"

"…Childhood love?"

Smiling quietly, Aerith shook her head. "Not just childhood. His whole life long. Even now, he loves her more than anything in the world. I can feel it every time she walks into a room, every time he looks up at her—it's just love and sweet and need."

Pouting out his lower lip, Zack kissed Aerith's hairline. "Cloud's not the only one with needs, you know."

Tilting her face up to him, Aerith grinned, cheeks flushing pink but the coy expression remaining. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," he hummed, low in his throat, just the way she liked him to talk. A shiver ran through her at the rough sound, and Zack's grin began to return. "In fact, I can think of one other person who also has…needs at the moment."

A single brown brow arched. "Is that so?"

The hesitant grin on Zack's face widened, and a deep chuckle escaped him. "You little minx…" The hands on her hips gripped tighter, and he levered her upwards, lifting her in the air. It took little more urging for her to wrap her legs around his waist, hitching her skirt up high, and Zack rumbled another low laugh as he tilted his head up to kiss her, low and slow and deep.

"Yeah. I know this guy who's got some killer needs. You see, he's got this beautiful girlfriend who blushes all pretty pink and goes all warm and soft in his arms whenever he holds her and he just about _needs_ to have her…right _now_."

Thirty seconds later, and all that was left of the couple in the hall were a few latent giggles and a very successfully re-inflated male ego.

…XxX…

_A/N_

_Some fluff to finish it off, there…I've been neglecting Zerith…_

_A few little plot tidbits—keep an eye out for them, they pop up where you don't expect. Next chapter will be MAJOR plot and hopefully some MAJOR cuteness going on up in here…_

_I'm so surprised at how many people like the Yuffentine. I really only write it 'cause it's fun as all crap…*blush*_

_Not much to say this time. Hope you guys liked the chapter! Read and review, see you next chapter!_


	13. I Don't

**Review Responses:**

**Darkhorse666**: Hah. Thanks for reviewing anyway, dearest. **Kurogane7:** True, everybody's starting to bond. It's good for them, I think. **riceball793:** Yeah, they keep DOING that. As soon as I leave them alone together…Freakin' rabbits…Glad you picked up on Aerie's little power, it's actually kinda important. And I know, I LOVE Marlene. **Toriga-Okami:** Hah, sorry. Those darn people making out all the time…*scowl* But we love them. **TenkaCat:** Yeah, the hallucination was pretty deep. I wanted to lengthen in, but I lost the feel of it…And yes. Zack. Writing him is like writing a Superball. As soon as I finish writing it down, it's back up. **kerapal bubbles:** I KNOW. Marlene! She's such a dear. I have a total soft spot for Mar. **Tiny Cherie:** Darling, I hate to tell you this, but if you have a problem with pity parties, you are in the WRONG place. **dark aura12:** I'm glad you're liking it! Your reviews make me happy…** NamioftheSea:** Yes, egos must be inflated. *wink* And you, too, appreciate the adorable Marlene! Huzzah! She's just too cute, I couldn't leave her out. It seemed so very HER. **vLuna:** Well, we find out in this chapter, in any case…but I can't promise anything…**LadyTeefStrife:** Yeah, Aerie grasps it well…She's nice. And Cloud is quite clingy, and stomach-hugs just seem to suit him in my mind. Yay for mini-Tifa-Marlene! I love love love her!

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter Thirteen: I Don't_

_ (I am afraid I don't own FFVII. That's all I have the enthusiasm for today, I fear.)_

She breathed.

Low, deep, and slow. Patiently. Unhurried. She was waiting for him to speak. Slipped under the thin sheets of the hospital bed, staring calmly at him, just waiting, she breathed.

The draw and flow of air through her was smooth and low, a gentle tide of oxygen. With every long inhale her lungs filled, chest expanding healthily, before falling again as she exhaled slowly. The steady rush of air in and out of her calmed him, set a rhythm for his own breathing, his heartbeat…

Her breathing was the most important sound in the world.

"I was always thinking about you," he whispered.

She smiled the tiniest bit, pleased that he was finally talking, and reached out the arm she wasn't lying on to rub his neck gently, easing the tension coiled at his nape. "Always?"

A low rumble answered. "Always. When I was alone, the silence whispered your name. When I fought and killed, the blood sang like you. In the deepest parts of night when I was in too much pain to sleep even though I hadn't rested in days, every reflection was your face, ever shadow was your hair, every whisper was your scream. When the exhaustion was too much and I collapsed, I dreamed of you again, and again…"

She managed to whimper his name once before the lingering warmth of him rose up to close her throat.

He was still talking, eyes focused on something far away, far into the past. "It should've been my mom, or our neighbors, or anyone else in the town…but it was only ever you. I could never, ever forget you…it was always you…"

"Cloud," she whispered again, fighting against the choking heat in her throat. "What _happened_?"

He swallowed.

He spoke:

"War."

Tifa blinked, confused. "But there hasn't been a war—"

"It wasn't one, legally speaking." Cloud turned his face into the pillow, half-muffling his words, as if he wished he could stop talking but couldn't now that he had started. "One general from a small southern nation tried to march his troops north—here—but the government knew it was impossible, so they disowned him right away. This country had full leave to capture or kill him and his men. They were supposed to be humane—they captured whom they could and sent them home—but there was something about the general that made people follow him. Most of them wanted to die for him—without even knowing his cause…"

"Cloud—"

"Don't stop me," he murmured into the pillow. "Don't stop me, or I'll never be able to finish…"

She reached out to curl a hand on his side, over his ribs. He didn't react to the touch, and that in itself was a mark of how hard he was fighting. "But…that general…was…?"

"_Sephiroth_."  
It fell from his lips like poison and vomit, and Tifa almost winced to hear it. Her hand clenched into the muscles of his ribcage, and he hissed a little in response, the pain real in a way that was almost comforting.

"He—Sephi—the general had two things he wanted. He wanted to be stronger, and he wanted everyone in this country dead. I don't—know why, but he…he was crazy—_is_ crazy—and he'll do anything to get those two things. So he—oh, god…

"He would pull men, right out of his own troops, and there was this scientist…_Hojo_…and Hojo had done experiments in the past, human experiments that lost him his doctorate and got him exiled, but the exact sort of stuff that appealed to the general…And they would pull men right out of their own forces, and just…_toy_ with them…and it was…_so horrible_…"

Tifa sat up suddenly, her eyes going wide and that deep, soothing breath catching, tearing in her throat. "And you—oh, _Cloud_, you were one of the troops…"

And Cloud sat up, too, and reached out for Tifa without looking up, his hands finding the comforting softness of her legs, and his fingers sunk in deep, anchoring him to her, tying his existence to her own, using her as a root to help him remember that _this was real_. And still the words fell out of his mouth, too far gone to stop now, purging out of him like vomit, like a sickness.

"And they—_we_ died, most of us, except a couple of us, and whatever they did, it made us strong…I was sixteen when it started and eighteen when it ended and everything in between is just blood and pain and the green shit they were shooting us with…They'd take you out of your bed at night and put you in these god-awful tubes full of green and needles and hell…and whatever that green was it hurt so bad you could never sleep, hurt so bad you'd rather die than feel it anymore. And then when morning came the pain had faded enough that maybe you could sleep if you really, really tried, but then they'd take you, and—and…"

His hands clenched into her thighs and released, seeking more purchase, finding her hips and dragging her closer, fingers digging deep enough that he could feel the bone beneath soft flesh, and Tifa had to bite her lip to hold back the whimper of pain, but he didn't hear or see, because his eyes were unfocused and looking at something that wasn't there, something that hadn't been there for three years.

"They were trying to make us stronger. And they had the best test in the world…right there…just when morning came and you tried to sleep, they'd take you and throw you onto the front lines of battle, to see how long you could last. You went straight from agony to blood, and no matter how badly you didn't want to fight, it was kill or be killed…and they made you fight until you collapsed, and if they thought it was long enough they'd come get you, because you were still useful, but if it wasn't long enough, they just…left you. You'd fall with your hands drenched in blood and you'd wonder if maybe this time someone would kill you before they could get you out, and you were never sure which way you wanted it…You'd fall asleep to blood and wake up to green, and those tubes were always…so damn cold…"

Tifa was crying, and she wasn't sure when she'd started but she couldn't stop, and she didn't know if they were tears for him or because his hands were bruising her hips so severely she thought she might scream, or tears for herself, because why did she care so much for a man with so much pain…?

"And me—I was never sure if I wanted to die, but I never could…I thought so many times about you dying, and I thought maybe I wanted to die, too, but maybe some part of me knew you were alive, because I never did…and sometimes I thought that you died for me, so I should live that life you saved, no matter how much it hurt—so I fought, and I killed everything they put me in front of with that same sword that killed you…and I had the record, I think, because I was once on the front lines for six hours without stopping, and that was the longest anyone ever went…

"I killed…everything. With that sword. And I would always stare at the blade when I fell, and it was so soaked in blood that I always wondered why it wasn't dyed red, and I always wondered if maybe coating it in enough blood would help yours wash off…I would think that before I collapsed, and then I would sleep and dream of you dying until I woke again to more pain…"

"Cloud…"

She whispered his name because it was the only thing she knew anymore. It was the only word that she could find in her head, the only thing left to say, the only thing, the only man, the only one.

She didn't remember her life before thirteen, but she had Cloud's fingers on the verge of shattering her sides and Cloud's hair clenched tight in her fingers and Cloud's eyes weeping into her shirt and he was the only thing, the only man, the only one she had ever loved.

She loved him so much…

Thick, fat, hot tears rolled down her cheeks, and her arms tightened on Cloud's shoulders and her hands tightened in his hair, and she loved him so much…

Then he was sitting up suddenly, and his face was twisted and horrified and she didn't even want to look at it, because that wasn't Cloud and Cloud would never look at her like that, but those were his eyes, desperate and guilty and full of agony, and she wanted to reach inside him and rip out all those ugly emotions and she hated that she _couldn't_. His guilt had been one thing, because he was guilty of hurting her, but this was a pain that wasn't hers to touch, a pain that was too raw and fresh to be treated by her clumsy hands.

His hands left her hips, and she barely held back the sigh of relief, but then they sunk deep into her hair, drawing two full handfuls of it, and he shook her roughly, without the tenderness she'd grown so accustomed to from him.

"Don't you understand, Tifa?!" His blue eyes weren't cold, but burning agony, a pain so deep she couldn't even grasp it. "Don't you see now what you swore to stay beside? I'm not a _who_, Tifa, I'm a _what_, a _thing_. Whatever the hell they did to me, it made me a killer, a machine, a demon. I am not human, Tifa. _I am a monster_."

"No," she whimpered, hips and scalp throbbing with pain, head clouded with grief and eyes with tears. "No, no, no…"

"_Yes_," he hissed, voice low and tight, furious and apologetic, and the only thing she could understand was just pain, and pain, and pain. "I am, Tifa, What they did to me, what I've done…It's not human. I'm not human. I'm a mons—"

"_Don't say it!_" She screamed, clapping her hands over his mouth, thick and hot tears flowing without restraint down her cheeks, blinding her. "Don't say that, don't ever say it again! You're not a monster, you're not, you're not, dammit! You're Cloud, you're my Cloud, and don't ever say things like that again, because it's not true, it's not it's not it's not, I swear it's not, and dammit, why can't you look at yourself?! Why can't you see how good you are? I don't care about any of that, I don't care, you're just Cloud and I love you…!"

When his fingers loosened in her hair, she knew something had gone horribly wrong.

He turned his face from her, hands slipping from her, falling limp at his sides. Her own slowly moved from his mouth, curling in towards her chest in instinctive self-protection, sensing the change in his demeanor and terrified by it.

"Love me, huh…" he murmured quietly, and the bitter smile that tweaked his lips was sickeningly familiar, and she didn't want to see it again. He turned to look at the ceiling, as if answers were written there, but his eyes were focused too far off to be seeing anything, and his lips twitched with irritation. "You don't love me."

Her breath turned to lead in her chest.

"A monster doesn't deserve love, Tifa. Especially not something so pure as yours. Whatever you feel for me—concern, or pity—it's not love. I don't deserve it. I don't want it. And what's more—"

He turned back to her again, and his eyes were not the false ice that she'd seen before, the cold that rejected her. His eyes were just as liquid blue as ever, but the passion they burned with was not a passion that burned for her.

"What's more, I don't feel it."

Her mouth was dry. Her head was spinning. Her sides and scalp still throbbed and she couldn't see past the tears in her eyes or breathe past the murderous heat in her throat. Her fingers curled over her heart as it pulsed painfully, the rhythm feeling off and broken, disjointed and wrong.

A corner of Cloud's mouth twitched wryly. "What I am—a demon—is in many ways like what I was. And what I feel for you…it took a childhood crush and twisted it into an obsession, a sick desire. I may want you, Tifa, I may lust after you in so many disgusting ways, but that's all. That's all I'm capable of anymore."

Maybe she was dreaming.

Maybe she was dying.

Cloud Strife looked at her with perfectly ambivalent eyes and said the words she never thought she'd hear him say to her.

"I don't love you, Tifa Lockhart."

…XxX…

_A/N_

…_Don't hate me…_


	14. Time Passed

**Review Responses:  
****Kurogane7**: Clever clever man. Explanations approach, I promise. **Darkhorse666**: As I have said before, _sit down and wait for your kissing._ Sheesh, girl. **kerapal bubbles**: Teef needs that hug. And Cloud could use a slap. But then, Cloud could _always_ use a slap, couldn't he… **XwhiteXspiritXalchemistX**: Sorry about the wait for this chapter…I had a time. I'm glad you like the story! I promise to keep updating… **Tiny Cherie**: Hah. Good to have the misunderstanding cleared. Also, yes. Someone slap Cloud or something. **ivalice-tifalucis**: Well, in Cloud's mind, he's not lying. Man has weird thought-progression. Good to know I've still got some of my original fans—you people are beyond wonderful to have stuck with me through my random hiatuses and irregular updates. **LadyTeefStrife**: Sephiroth and Hojo do deserve rather gruesome murder. They do, they do…Thanks you for presenting the logical view to these people. But since when does Cloud ever listen to the logic…Awesome with the laptop, by the by. Typing on small devices is a bitch. **TenkaCat**: Le gasp indeed. He is messed up, isn't he? Thank you for being patient…I do _try_ to be quick… **vLuna**: Emotional rollercoasters are _fun_, though! He'll have to fix it…again. Idiot man. **NamioftheSea**: …Can I borrow that frying pan? Could prove useful…Cloud torture is fun. What can I say… **iceQueen02**: Well, you've certainly got a good grasp of Cloud's mindset, something which is getting far too hard for even _me_ to get these days…Glad you like my fic, thanks for joining up!** dark aura12**: Glad to hear I'm not hated. And any review is love, whether at 9 PM or 3 in the morning. Love, I say! **WellingtonBoot**: I never really preferred AU's myself, but…it's too tempting. You're too kind, by the way. Alternately raw and fluffy—that might just be the perfect way to describe this story. Thanks for joining up! **Miss Cheshire**: Thank you! "Poor everybody" just about sums things up, yeah. Angst and angst and angst, it's much fun. Glad you reviewed, hope to see you around from now on! **kitsune13**: Stop predicting my story, I feel…predictable? Hah. It is all Cloud talking, I'm afraid, it's just…augh. It made sense to him and no one else, really. Vincent _is_ a part of this, but that's plot for a later date…glad it was as creepy as I thought. Scared _me_ enough when the thought first popped into my head. And I think Seph could easily manage an insanity plea. Man is not exactly…normal. **DynastyWARRIORS**: I don't mind, reviewing whenever you can is okay. Slapping may occur at some later date, god only knows he deserves it… **Vanilla Raindrops**: Hah. He is a bit of a jerk, isn't he…and I do so love tying parallels into AU's. It's just bundles of fun. As for the voluntarily—it was voluntary, relatively, but he wasn't thinking much at the time. Bit of a walking-corpse state. **SymphonyOfDestruction**: Regrettably, I agree about the first chapters. I wrote them something like eight months ago, and I don't like them at all, but I haven't had time to rewrite them yet. I'm just glad you stuck it through and got to the better stuff! I'm sorry if I'm over CloTi-ing, but it's really just…the pairing of the plot. You know. Zack does know Cloud—I'll explain eventually. And Vincent's something closer to 26 than 16, actually.

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter Fourteen: Time Passed_

_(Final Fantasy VII is the exclusive property of…not me. Who does all this mess belong to, anyway?)_

_**A/N: Tifa has a theme song this chapter: "Sorrow" by Flyleaf. You can find it on YouTube, and I'd recommend listening while you read, if only for pretty background music.**_

Warm.

His hand was holding warm.

Consciousness came slowly, gently washing over him like a rising tide. Gradually he became aware of the throbbing pain in his arm, not completely muted by whatever painkillers he was hooked up to. Along with the pain came more warmth, a faint, calming heat that started in his hand and wrapped up the whole of his arm. Filtering through a half-asleep consciousness, vague curiosity drove him to waking.

His eyes half-opened, the world coming into slow focus. Dimly, he registered the empty room, the cold familiarity of his own bed. The only real surprise that awaited his wakening was what was curled around his left side.

Yuffie was snuggled into his hip, both of her legs wrapped around one of his, her head pillowed on his thigh. With both of her hands she clutched onto his left, cradling it to her chest. A slight, indulgent smile flickered on the corners of his lips, and he moved to extricate his hand from hers.

A panicked whimper escaped her, and she clung to him tighter, her small fingers lacing through his longer ones and clenching so tight his knuckles popped. "No," she whispered, nuzzling her head tighter into his thigh.

Swallowing quietly, Vincent leaned forward and brushed a lock of hair off her temple. "Yuffie," he murmured, his naturally rough voice as soothing as he could make it. "Yuffie, let go now."

She whined quietly and shook her head without opening her eyes. "Don' wanna," she mumbled, words half-muffled in his leg. "Gotta make Vin come back…gotta hold on…"

The tall man, for the first time in years, thought his heart might have beat.

The long fingers of his free hand gently tangled through her hair, combing the soft, downy mess of it away from her face. Pausing, he stopped to appreciate it—the soft roundness of her cheeks, the paleness of her skin, the gentle arch of her eyebrows and the pale pink of her small lips. She was beautiful, he decided, beautiful in an almost childish way, a vulnerable way that made him want to be gentle and soft to her, made him want to protect her.

Could it really be such a sin for him to love her, this tiny, fragile creature?

Was it really so unforgivable for him to need her warmth as he did, when she gave it so freely, so carelessly offering him the light he needed to live on?

…Would Lucrecia truly begrudge him a life with this little woman, a life of warmth and hope and home, before he paid his debts by burning through the next?

He gently stroked long fingers through the short hair of the girl wrapped around his leg, and she smiled in response, that smile that was sunshine and warmth and hope.

Could it really be such a sin?

…XxX…

Cloud.

Cloud.

_Cloud._

His name was a throbbing, pulsing agony in her throat. That now-familiar lingering warmth wrapped itself around her voice box, choking her.

And time passed.

At some point, she returned to her room. She wasn't sure when or how she got there, but it was only when she leaned back into the headboard of her bed that she realized she'd never gotten her pillow back from Cloud.

And time passed.

While she sat there in a daze, the rest of the night slipped away. With morning came Zack and Aerith and worried questions, and somewhere she found the will to smile and wave them off and not breathe a word that would betray her broken heart. Even as mind and soul drifted, body and senses were aware, and Tifa could see the sideways looks and smell the lingering sex on her friends, but just couldn't find the will in her to begrudge them that happiness, only to slowly, bone-deeply envy.

And time passed.

Eventually time brought her Marlene and Denzel, running to her with whirlwind explanations of no school and Barret away from home on business and getting to spend the whole day with their big sis. And she remembered to smile and even laugh and to tousle hair and pinch noses happily, because little brother and little sister were never supposed to see big sister in pain.

And time passed.

From behind their smiles and exuberance, four sets of eyes watched Tifa carefully, four people who didn't quite trust her good humor. Four people suspected she wasn't nearly as okay as she was pretending to be, but four people couldn't find any evidence beyond a cold pit in their stomach and a trembling, sad sense of detachment.

And time passed.

The day would have passed and gone smoothly. Her smile was holding, her mood perfectly set to "bright and chipper." She could have made it through that day, and the next, and all those following. Who really needed to breathe, anyway?

The day would have passed in the same slow, inexorable manner as time, if only Denzel hadn't tugged up her shirt to blow a teasing raspberry on her stomach, and was met with a shriek of agony rather than laughter.

Denzel paused. Marlene paused. Zack, Aerith, the whole hospital, the whole world paused.

Time no longer passed.

Somewhere in the depths of herself, Tifa sighed. The day would have passed.

When time began moving gain, Tifa found herself over Zack's shoulder, held there by a careful hand against her ribcage. Dimly, she heard him telling Aerith to entertain her siblings, and then he was moving down the hall, his long, loping strides bordering a run. She heard herself protesting that she was fine, she could walk, quit freaking out, doc, but he neither acknowledged nor responded to her insistence.

After an inhumanly short walk, she was being tossed gently onto a bed in the medical wing of the Help Center. Zack was gone and back in the blink of an eye, a bag of ice in each of his hands.

"Lift up your shirt," he ordered, and Tifa managed to twist her face into a grin.

"Save that for Aerith," she joked, but—for the first time that she could think of—Zack didn't even smile.

A low growl escaped him, and then he was leaning over the bed and pulling her shirt up for her, exposing the deep purple marks on her hips. She hissed quietly when rough fingers moved over the sensitive flesh, then whined when Zack laid his hands fully over the bruises, matching the shapes to his fingers and knowing, instantly, what had caused them.

"Dammit, Tifa…" he snarled, his voice low and tight as he wrapped the ice in a cloth and pressed it to her hip. She jumped at the pressure, but he didn't lessen it.

She murmured, very quietly, "It's okay. He didn't mean to, he was just…dealing. He needed something to hold on to."

"Did that have to be _you_?!" Zack yelled, furious. "You've got a deep muscle bruise, Teef—that means swelling, and stiffness, and not just broken capillaries, but damaged muscle. There's no way you weren't in agony all morning—but you didn't say a thing. That's not _like_ you, girl, and neither is that crap that just came out of your mouth! Be mad, dammit! Issues or not, genetic experiment or not, he has no right to hurt you like that! You _know_ that!"

Whatever Zack had expected in response to his bout of temper, he wasn't going to get it.

Tifa laid back on the bed and whispered to the ceiling. "I'm fine, Zack. It's really nothing. Just…it is. It's over now. Over."

The doctor ground his teeth angrily, fighting down another rant. Forcing himself to be Doctor Fair for the moment, he pulled the ice bags from her sides and moved closer.

She managed a vaguely curious expression. "Zack?"

He shrugged a single shoulder. "With bruises this deep, sometimes blood and drainage can build up in the muscle. It needs to be massaged out. Move your hands so I can do this."

Without the energy left to do anything but follow orders, she did as he commanded, lifting her arms to rest on her ribcage. Zack reached out and applied gentle pressure to her sides. She whimpered and complained, "Zack, that hurts."

"Shut up, you'll thank me later," he retorted, continuing to carefully rub at her hips. She bit at her lower lip, holding back another whine, but the high-pitched sound still escaped her chest when Zack pressed, hard. "It's okay, Teef. Sorry, but it'll make it better."

Neither of them minded that their conversation carried very easily in the small room.

Neither of them remembered that Cloud had been in the medical wing last night, when he'd given Tifa those selfsame bruises.

Neither of them realized that Cloud had never left.

The blonde man was sitting two cots away, with nothing but a white curtain and ten feet between him and his obsession, enduring pain at another man's hands.

_Or at my hands. I gave her the bruises in the first place…monster_.

Wavering between severely damaging Zack and severely damaging himself, Cloud sought escape. Zack was still working studiously over Tifa's bruises, and she was too dazed and in too much pain to notice when Cloud fled. He made sure the door didn't slam behind him, carefully easing it shut with the barest of _click_s.

When he turned to walk down the hall, he was met with one thing he would never have anticipated.

The furious glares of nine and thirteen year-old eyes.

He staggered back a step or two before he understood. They were furious at him for hurting their older sister. The thought was so ironic it almost made him want to laugh.

Denzel was the first to speak, the small fists at his sides trembling with a young man's fury. "You…you did that to Tifa…didn't you?"

Kneeling down so he was eye-level with the boy, Cloud nodded, his throat closed with regret.

Fists clenched and rose, little white teeth clenched, and a thin growl rose from a small chest as Denzel's head bowed and his shoulders shook. "I'll…I'll kill you…How could you…_I'll kill you!_"

When the boy shot forward, fists raised to strike, even though common sense told him the blow could trigger his haphaephobia, Cloud couldn't move. Because it was just…_so damn familiar._ Only a year younger than he had been…and the same immature fury in his eyes…and both fighting to avenge, to protect the same girl…

Too damn familiar.

And he couldn't move.

Denzel's fist came closer, and time passed in slow motion.

And then there was another girl, another too-fragile, too-brave girl, and the strangled, half-present-half-memory scream was on its way out of Cloud's throat when the past changed.

"Den-_zel_!" Marlene shrieked, tackling her brother to the ground. The children fell together, Denzel's arms wrapping around Marlene and taking the impact onto his shoulder. Regardless of the brief gesture of protective gentleness, Marlene immediately began pounding roughly on Denzel's chest, pitching a small tantrum. "I told you not to hit people, Barret told you not to hit people, even _Tifa_ told you not to hit people, now will you stop it stop it stop it, you meaniiiiie…"

The boy winced as his little sister continued to beat him quite mercilessly, and protested, "Tifa said I could hit people if they really deserved it!"

Grabbing him by soft, fluffy brown hair, Marlene turned his head to look at Cloud. "And does _he_ look like he deserves it?"

Cloud had no idea what expression was on his face.

But whatever it was, it made Denzel stop trying to wriggle away from Marlene. The fire left the boy's eyes in a rush as he stared at the taller man, and Marlene hummed her agreement, the little murmur clearly saying, _Now do you see?_

Very slowly and carefully, the young girl climbed off her older brother and walked up to Cloud. She paused a few feet away from him, staring straight into his eyes.

Warm chestnut like just-toasted bread, and she was so many ways like her older sister…

He swallowed and whispered: "Have you ever wanted something—a doll, or toy or something like that? You wanted it so bad you begged and pleaded and cried for it until someone finally bought it for you?"

Marlene clasped her hands behind her back and nodded.

"And you finally had what you'd wanted for so long—but then you had it, and did you love it? Or did you play with it for a while and forget about it, 'cause you only really wanted it, not loved it?"

Thin little eyebrows knitted over wide chestnut eyes, and Marlene answered confidently, "Of course I loved it. I still have every doll I've ever had. I never stopped playing with any of my dolls, 'cause I do love them."

And the breath left Cloud in a rush.

Innocence.

Innocence, and it _hurt_.

Without warning she stepped closer, and toasted nut eyes were so warm and so familiar and _so much like Tifa._

And then she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight.

He went stone-still in her arms, and Denzel's panicked yell echoed down the hall as both men waited for the inevitable shudders to creep down his skin, that horrific need to get it away, get it off, kill it kill it kill it…

But Marlene squeezed him tighter and muttered into his shoulder, "You're not a bad guy, Cloud. You're just scared, like Denzel used to be. Everybody's scared, Cloud. Sometimes you gotta be scared and do what you needta do anyway."

Worldly advice from a nine year-old.

And Cloud didn't recognize the sound that left his throat as a sob or a laugh, because it was ironic and heartrending, and then his long hands came up to gently cradle that small back and soft head.

_So much like Tifa_.

He hugged the tiny spot of warmth in his arms carefully and he could have held her forever, because how could he ever be afraid of this gentle, fragile, just-like-Tifa girl…

And he held her with hands as tender as they knew how to be, and Denzel watched with only very slightly envious eyes, and time passed.

And the passage of time is the only, only thing that will, without fail, bring change.

…XxX…

_A/N_

_I. LOVE. MARLENE._

_I spent something like five days just debating how I could begin this chapter. And after five days, re-watching ACC reminded me of one little character whom I love more than anyone. If I ever have a daughter, I want her to be like Marlene._

_Snippets of plot for you, darlings. Poor Tifa is having a very strange out-of-body experience, Cloudy gets to be jealous, and someone can touch Cloud! *le gasp*_

_I apologize to the people who thought the progress of last chapter was a little sporadic. I blame the character studies I do—whenever I'm stuck on a chapter, I tend to just try and write out Cloud's mindset. That was how his thoughts progressed, and it made perfect sense there—but since he doesn't say everything he thinks, it doesn't make any sense to someone who just hears it. I'm trying to explain gradually. I will eventually._

_As per usual, please review, and I love you all!_


	15. Puppet Hurts

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter Fifteen: Puppet Hurts_

_(I don't own FFVII. Sorry, once again I don't have the effort for a clever disclaimer.)_

There was something wrong with the world.

Someone had leached all the color out of it and blurred all the edges, dampened all the sounds and muted all the sensations. It felt like she'd been sucked away from reality, like an actor pulled off the stage and into the audience, removed from the scene yet still a part, trying to play their role from an impossible position.

Tifa stared straight ahead. She saw the ceiling. Her hips were vaguely cold—Zack must have left the ice packs there. She told her left arm to lift and check. Slowly, the limb rose, and then lowered her fingers to her hip. She waited. A few more seconds and she felt the dull cold in her fingertips. Yes, the ice must still be there. Idly, she told her arm to return to her side. She watched without much interest as the joints rotated and unbent and moved the limb back into position.

The movement felt alien.

She was a puppeteer, manipulating her body from the outside.

_Dance, little puppet, dance for them._

Tiny strings were wrapped around her fingers, each joint manipulating another part of the Tifa-doll. The cords cut, like tiny, sharp wires, digging into her flesh with the weight of the marionette. She twitched her fingers to make the doll dance, inspecting the strings with mild interest.

The first joint of her left middle finger. _Zack_.

The second joint of her right pinky. _Aerith_.

The knuckle of her right middle finger. _Barret_.

The joint of her left thumb. _Vincent_.

The knuckle of her left pinky. _Yuffie._

The three joints of her right ring finger_. Loz. Yazoo. Kadaj._

The first joint of her right index finger. _Denzel._

The first joint of her left index finger. _Marlene._

The knuckle of her right thumb. _Cloud._

_Cloud. Cloud. Cloud._

The cord was a pulsing golden wire, twining from around her right thumb, down to the mouth of the doll below. She watched blandly as the string was illuminated, glowing right through the flesh and blood of the doll. It trailed down the marionette's neck, the inside of its throat, wrapped in and around its windpipe. From there the cord split into tiny gold threads, coiling from the throat to the lungs, winding tight around them, binding them tight. With the doll's breath firmly in its grasp, it grew further, reaching up again to twine thin golden fingers around the puppet's heart.

The threads clenched tight, and below her, the tiny doll sobbed in agony.

Puppeteer-Tifa was angry. Wasn't the whole point of a puppet that it couldn't feel? Stop making her puppet feel. Stop making it hurt. She didn't want to hurt anymore. It was easier this way.

But the burning golden threads didn't stop at her command. They contracted around the puppet's heart, cutting it with razor-wire edges. The doll cried out in agony, and the pain crawled up the puppet strings and tore at the puppeteer.

Stop making her puppet hurt.

She didn't want to hurt anymore.

The gold wire cut the doll-heart to ribbons, to pieces, and the tears that flowed down the puppet's cheeks were very real, and they were mirrored on the face of the puppeteer. Coiling inside the chambers of her heart, the gold reached out with silk-thin threads and began to stitch the fragments of her puppet-heart together. The doll shook and trembled and wailed agony of open-heart surgery without painkillers, and the needle-threads stitched what they had torn to ribbons into a whole again.

When her heart was mended, the needles paused and _pulled_, and forced a shredded doll-heart into beating again. Blood rushed through the marionette's veins again, and the cords caught the flow gleefully, following and fragmenting to trace down every one of the doll's blood vessels. In a matter of seconds the puppet became a glowing bundle of golden thread, and the ties in its heart still tugged mercilessly, forcing the tatters of a dead heart to beat.

The golden thread burned.

The puppet burned.

It _hurt_.

Stop making her puppet hurt.

She didn't want to hurt anymore.

Then the golden fire was flowing backwards, not leaving the burning doll but spreading _up_ the cord, as if searching for more fuel. Scalding bronze wrapped around her thumb and traced a net over the back of her hand and slipped over her palm to send a single thick cord into the vein at her wrist. The gold punctured her skin with ease and the puppeteer threw back her head and keened in agony, and the puppet mirrored her pain below.

But the gold cord was already spreading up the vein of her arm, reaching her shoulder and spreading out to her neck, and it stretched up her throat to wrap choking, warm fingers around her windpipe, an oxygen-stealing warmth that she knew all too well.

_And the wires were slipping down her carotid artery, her jugular vein, and they punched right into her heart as her mouth opened on a silent scream…_

And the golden threads wrapped around her heart beat a pulse. Beat a name.

_Cloud. Cloud. Cloud_.

He was all caught up in her, tangled around her. Wrapped into her, tied around her. She couldn't remember when he'd first become a part of her, but she'd grown up with his heartbeat wrapped around hers, even if she hadn't known it. Meeting him again—this time at the Help Center—it was waking up the feelings that had survived even where memories had been lost. She was feeling, all over again, the extent to which he had become a part of her. _Necessary_ to her.

To separate herself from him, she'd have to tear out all her vital organs.

And it _hurt_.

Because Tifa was the puppet, and it _hurt_.

Zack. Aerith. Barret. Vincent. Yuffie. Loz. Yazoo. Kadaj. Denzel. Marlene.

_Cloud_.

Cords, ties, bonds. Holding her to the puppet, to her body. All the reasons why she couldn't fade away. Why she couldn't let go.

How could she have ever wanted to leave them?

The golden cord that was Cloud led her back to her body. Led her home.

In the hospital bed in the Fair Help Center, Tifa shot bolt upright.

"Teef?" Zack blurted, startled by her sudden movement.

Her melted chocolate eyes slowly focused, then narrowed, and a smirk crept across her face. Despite the copious amounts of pain that her expression promised, it was a true Tifa expression, and the life behind her furious eyes sent a thrill of relief through Zack.

"I…am going to kick his ass," Tifa slowly decided, her tone conclusive and satisfied.

The pure _Tifa_ behind the statement was so strong, so poignant, Zack laughed out loud. Tifa flicked her hair over her shoulder and grinned at the doctor before flowing smoothly to her feet. She hissed in quiet pain as her hips protested the motion, but she just smoothed her shirt over the bruises before crossing to the door in four smooth strides. Zack followed closely behind, because he wouldn't miss the next few minutes if you paid him to.

Tifa punched the door open with a thunderous _bang_, and the three people gathered in the hall all started at the sound. Denzel jumped to his feet, recognizing with the keen sense of a brother that his older sister was better again. Marlene saw her big sis over Cloud's shoulder and smiled her quiet smile, her nine year-old perceptions telling her the same thing as Denzel.

Cloud saw the expression on Denzel's face and felt the change of Marlene in his arms, but he was slower to react than the children. Very carefully, he set Marlene on her feet, then backed a foot or so away. He took a deep breath to steel himself for whoever waited behind him, then turned and rose.

Women, throughout history, literature, and film, have slapped the men who have done them wrong. It was a stereotypical blow, which didn't cause much physical pain, but was meant to embody all the rejection, insecurity, and pent-up hatred the woman was feeling. The problem was, _it didn't cause much physical pain_.

And Tifa Lockhart did _not_ slap people.

Tifa Lockhart looked Cloud Strife in the face and punched him directly in the jaw.

It was a damn good hit. The blow sent him reeling, off-balance, and then Tifa completely ruined his equilibrium by walking another two steps forward and planting a solid shove on his chest.

He hit the floor of the hall hard, the impact jarring his spine, and he looked up in blatant surprise as Tifa grinned evilly down at him. Without warning, she dropped to her knees, flinging one leg over his torso and sitting down comfortably on his stomach. Cloud sputtered incoherently as Tifa rested her chin on one hand, her smile slightly sadistic with her blatant enjoyment of his discomfort.

"Tifa—_what_—" was the most he managed before she smirked and placed a single shapely finger against his lips to silence him.

"_You_ just shut up and listen for once," she ordered, her tone a mix of teasing, chastising, and solemn. "You spend so much time talking you never pause to listen when I say something to you. So now you're just going to hush for once while I talk. Got that?" He nodded mutely, stunned into silence.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on his chest, face scant inches away from his. "Look, Cloud Strife. I don't believe that you're a monster or whatever it is you're convinced you are. But since you won't believe me about that, here's something else for you to chew on. Even if you _are_ a monster, or a demon, or whatever, _I don't care_. Did it ever occur to you that I might love you anyway, you _great big idiot?!_" She leaned back to wipe a few errant tears from her eyes.

Cloud's voice was quiet when he whispered her name.

"Tifa…"

Her hands fell from her face and focused on him again, glaring. He blanched even as a faint smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. She moved forward to grab a handful of his spikes and knock her forehead lightly against his. Her next words were breathed against his face, carrying just as much force as the ones she'd yelled.

"I love you, Cloud Strife," she whispered, just a light breeze of sound over his lips, his nose, his cheeks. "I've loved you for the past eight years, even when I couldn't remember you. Whatever you may think about yourself, the way _I_ feel about you will _never_ change."

She stood then, and left him there on the ground, dumbstruck. The same was she'd left him when she was thirteen years old, and he was a dumb kid with the crush of a lifetime.

Awestruck.

Amazed.

Adoring.

Wavering on her feet, she looked at Zack. "Um, Doc, could I get those bags of ice back? I think I'm about to fall down here…"

Zack laughed out loud and swept her over his shoulder, patting her side contentedly. "Teef, after that little speech, I'd give you my whole damn hospital. _Brilliant_, woman! I _love_ it!"

Tifa chuckled quietly, and then threw a grin and a wave to Marlene and Denzel as the door to the hospital wing swung closed again. The two younger siblings flashed a thumbs-up and a wide grin, respectively, just before the door closed.

Cloud buried his face in his hands to hide the blush spreading over his cheeks. "But—I don't…I never wanted this to happen…" he mumbled, muffling the words against his palms. "I didn't want her to love me…she'll only—it'll never—I didn't…"

Then there was a soft weight on his arm as Marlene leaned against his shoulder, stretching one thin arm up to pat his head. He turned to look at her, and she smiled encouragement. "Lying is bad," she told him teasingly, small fingers patting his spikes into place.

He swallowed and tried to let his lips curve upwards. "I'm not lying, Marlene."

A small fist knocked against his forehead lightly. "Lying is _bad_, I said. You're not gonna fool anybody."

His knees curled in to his chest, contracting him into a tight ball. "No—I didn't—I swear, I only…I just…"

The rest of his thoughts went unvoiced. _I just wanted her. I only meant to lust after her. I thought she'd hate me. It would be so much easier if she hated me. Lust, desire, need…they're not the kind of feelings that inspire love. I never thought she'd fall in love with me._

Marlene wrapped her little arms around his biceps and hugged tightly, reminding him of reality. Her little-girl voice was soft when she spoke. "Cloud, _everybody_ wants Tifa to love them. Me, Denzel, Barret…you, too. Everybody."

This time, the smile that flickered on the edges of his mouth was real.

Cloud stood, curling his arm under Marlene's thighs to bring her with him. He balanced her weight against his hip as she clung to his shoulder, giggling. Deciding to push his luck for the day, he reached out to lightly ruffle Denzel's hair.

So familiar.

The young boy glared up at Cloud, and Cloud rubbed his knuckles against Denzel's scalp in the lightest of noogies. "C'mon," he called, one corner of his mouth lifting in a smile. "You guys have had enough of this drama for one day. The receptionist can call your dad."

The three left the hall, Denzel still quietly seething, Marlene clinging to Cloud's shoulder comfortably.

Fifteen seconds passed, and everything might have been okay.

But fifteen seconds after Cloud and the two children had left the hall, three new men entered it.

Two wore crisp black uniforms, the clothes worn by the attendants in the Help Center. One had long red hair pulled back into a ponytail—the other's head was clean bald. The bald man wore sunglasses, despite being indoors, and the redhead had a pair of riding goggles pushed up onto his forehead, as well as curved red tattoos underneath his eyes.

The two men guarded and led a third, taller than either, thinner than either. His long silver hair fell all the way down to his calves, and the rough growth of beard on his face wasn't enough to conceal the narrow, hawkish features he bore. A straitjacket bound his arms to his rail-thin formed, but he appeared neither angered nor even particularly bothered with this inconvenience.

The redhead kicked open the door to the medical wing, yelling, "Fair, we brought Seph for cleaning up like you said—"

"_YOU!_"

There was a thunderous tearing noise, and when the two attendants turned to face their charge, the straitjacket was in tatters around his torso, one long arm extended towards the woman on the hospital cot.

Her blood chocolate eyes widened, breath turning to ice in her chest.

Three long-legged strides had the silver man across the room, at the foot of her cot. He knelt at her feet, bowing his head forward, letting all his silver hair spill forward over his face.

For a breath, there was silence.

Then, a thread of sound, almost too quiet to be heard:

"_Sephiroth…_"

He looked up and smiled.

His smile was poison and cruelty, a smile that promised pain and pain and pain. It was a smile that spoke for the suffering of thousands, a smile that held the terror of masses. When he spoke, his voice was a liquid snake, sliding over the skin to hiss in Tifa's ear: "_The lover of sin—the temptress, the dark lady—his own salvation_."

"Salvation," Tifa whimpered, and Sephiroth reached out to take her hand.

"You know me, dark lady. Do you remember? Do you remember the night?"

"Fire," she whispered, a thread of sound in the silence. "Fire and blood and silver hair…"

The smile spread until his teeth showed, ivory teeth, pointed teeth. "I burned your town to the ground because it hurt him. I stood amidst the flames and laughed because it hurt him. When you, dark lady, came running to protect him…"

"A lie," was her response. "A sword…I fell forward…and I looked up to him…"

Soft darkness curled Sephiroth's smile, and his hand clenched tighter on hers, the pain linking past to present, keeping her with him as her mind reeled back.

"When his dark lady came running to protect him, when you threw yourself between us, I carved your back open, because it hurt him."  
"_A lie!_" Tifa keened, and Sephiroth's fingers clenched on hers, his other hand coming up to bite at her scar through the shoulder of her shirt.

"Not a lie, beautiful lady, mere misdirection. He was already drowning himself in guilt over his failure; I simply…helped him redirect the blame. And when he looked up at me with those child's eyes, those eyes that knew full responsibility for your death lay on his shoulders…when he held you in his arms and reached out to me with those hands stained with blood…his pain then was a pleasure beyond ecstasy for me…"

Her palm was sweating against his, her eyes half-rolled back into her head—her shoulders twitched, her arms and legs shaking uncontrollably, and Sephiroth rubbed his fingers over the back of her hand in a gesture that would have been comforting from anyone else but only raised goosebumps on her flesh.

The words torn out of her throat were broken, out of pitch, words from the throat of a thirteen year-old, not a twenty year-old:

"It was you—it was always you—Cloud—_help…Cloud…_"

"He's not coming to help. He has _never_ come to help you." The words coiled like a serpent around her throat, in her ear, hissing. "He's a monster. _He is the monster. Not I. He is to blame._"

The scream that ripped out of Tifa was so strong she thought it might tear her apart—but Sephiroth was still holding tight to her hand, both of his palms wrapped around her fingers, and he lifted them to his lips and kissed her knuckles in a gesture old and knightly, but the knight was a monster and the monster was a knight and Tifa wrenched her hands out of his grip and scrambled backwards off the bed until she fell over the edge and hit the ground, where she curled into a trembling ball.

Sephiroth stood and for the first time seemed to notice the three men who stared at him with murder in their eyes, and the pitch-black, ivory smile curved his lips as he looked down at Tifa and murmured in satisfaction:

"_And now, at long last—the end shall begin. Such pain—you will beg for death._"

…XxX…

_A/N_

_It's so late. It's THREE WEEKS LATE. I am so, so sorry. The end of the semester came—midterms and make-up homework and whatnot—I completely lost the thread of the story. It's spring break and I finally, FINALLY managed to get it going again. All my muses are home and healthy again, I'm glad to say. I promise I'll be back on this now. I'm very sorry to have neglected you all for so long! *wail*_

_In apology, an extra-long chapter, and Sephiroth. I got a surprising number of reviews asking for him, so here he is, in near-deadly amounts. Gah, that man is scary. Oh, and the first appearance of Reno and Rude! I finally had to work them in. The story was lonely without them._

_I'm sorry, no review responses this chapter—but I swear, I read and ADORE every single review. They all matter so much to me, and I'll be back to responding next chapter, I just really don't have the time or energy today. That doesn't mean I'm not eternally grateful! Because I am! I'm sorry…_

_Once more, I AM SO SORRY, my darlings! I'm back now, I swear! Please review and I love you all so much!_


	16. I Remember You

**Review Responses:**

**Kurogane7**: Yeah, I'm sorry, I skipped those last reviews on your story. I'll get back to it, I promise. I just really haven't had time. Also, Rufus is planning to appear sometime. I can't resist him, that damnable man. **Miss Cheshire**: You are very very right. Also, I laughed for about ten minutes. And yeah. Tifa's getting a bit nuts, too. Cloud's infectious, run away! Sorry if the puppet piece was too long, I had too much fun. And the slap was joy. **SorrowsFlower**: Thanks, I'm glad you liked it. I LOVE Marlene—she's just a love. Also, I'm flattered that you think I'm medical—I'm still just in high school, but I've taken two anatomy courses and I'm considering becoming a psychiatrist in the future. So yes, it's a fair assumption. **kerapal bubbles**: Hah, yes. It _was_ quite the day-maker. I got sick of passive Tifa. She needed to kick ass. **Nineveh03**: I'm glad you liked the chapter! It's one of my favorites so far, too. Thank goodness you're into the CloTi now—because I love it. And yes. The Turks. Oh dear, oh dear. **LadyTeefStrife**: Hah. That appears to be the general reaction to my Seph, which is quite pleasing—and yes, I just feel like Zack and Tifa would have that type of relationship…And Sephy is scary. Very very scary. Glad you liked it! **Toriga-Okami**: Thanks, the beginning _was_ a blast to write—I had to kinda ease myself back into the writing and it's easier for me to write random poetic mess like that. Their relationship is a veritable roller coaster—but things are improving. And yes, I'm setting up quite the epic ending in my head here. It's going to be all epic and touchy-feely and gooey. It is indeed a plan, Batman. Your review made my week, thank you so much! **natcat5**: Yes, much ass-kicking, both in this chapter and planned for later ones. And I love my strong women. The men in FFVII are all idiots. The girls have to deal with everything—even if they're only nine years old. **NamioftheSea**: I'm surprised the puppet bit was so well liked—I just wrote it 'cause I wanted to. Also, indeed, the Turks. We love them. **dark aura12**: Indeed, I live! Sorry, it was so long, I know. Yuffie and Vincent are back in this chapter—I just didn't have any room in the last one! Eeeeep. **vLuna**: The ass-kicking has garnered much approval. And much calling for Sephiroth's turn. It's good to know my readers think the same way as me. Thanks for the review! **Darkhorse666**: Three words, my love: Best. Review. Ever. However, I demand you wait for the kissing. Bleh. **Vanilla Raindrops**: I know, there was lack of Badass-Tifa in my fic. She needed a resurgence. Also, very likely typo. Thanks for pointing it out! Indeed, Sephiroth is scary—and I'm glad. When writing him, I tend to think, "Okay, what's the creepiest thing anyone could do right now? All right, he's going to do something even creepier." And Zack _does_ have a reason for collecting the psychos, I swear. It'll be explained soon.

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter Sixteen: I Remember You_

_(I'm really beginning to run out of ideas for disclaimers, so we'll just say that I don't own Final Fantasy VII, because otherwise it would have become a smut series long ago. Or at least an angst/fluff one.)_

"Tifa! Tifa, talk to me!"

She was trembling. She couldn't breathe.

_She was running. She couldn't breathe._

"I'm fine. I'm all right. It'll be all right. I'll make it all right. I won't let him be hurt. Cloud—_Cloud_—"

"No, Tifa, it's Zack, not Cloud, Tifa, can you hear me?!"

The air tasted like chemicals and sterility. She couldn't breathe.

_The air tasted like fire and death. She couldn't breathe._

"I have to—find them, save him—Cloud…"

She was shaking. She couldn't breathe.

_She was burning._

_She couldn't breathe._

…

_She was running, and Nibelheim was burning around her._

_Cloud. Cloud. Cloud._

_He was in here somewhere. Where was he? Oh, Gaia, her father was dead…she wanted to break down and cry._

_No! No! She was Tifa Lockhart, and she had to be strong. She could cry later. For now, she had to save Cloud. He was here, she knew it. Where was he? Oh, Cloud…_

_She couldn't breathe._

_Then shadows flickered through the flame._

_Cloud!_

_She was running._

_Then she saw—Cloud and the demon._

_And Cloud had his father's sword in his hands, that oversized fusion blade, and those thin, fourteen year-old arms trembled even as he tried to lift them. The demon—his hair was silver that reflected the blood orange of the flames, and his sword was just as ridiculous as Cloud's, longer than anyone should be able to wield, and the same shade of steel as that long hair._

_The air tasted like fire and death and Cloud's blood._

_For a few split seconds, she stood and watched and prayed. A few seconds was all it took for her to understand that Cloud was going to die. He was outmatched in every possibly way—speed, strength, technique._

_As she watched, Cloud's shoulders stooped in defeat—the fusion sword slipped from his fingers—and the demon laughed._

_She couldn't breathe._

_And she ran forward without thinking, only understanding that she couldn't stand and watch this happen—couldn't stand and watch Cloud die. Her breathless throat tore open on a cry of his name, and paradise blue eyes raised and turned and shone with both hope and terrible, terrible fear—_

_The demon raised his sword—_

_Tifa was between them, and she turned to Cloud and threw out her hands, and she screamed his name—_

_And the sword came down._

_She was burning._

_She couldn't breathe._

_She fell forward into Cloud's arms, heard him screaming her name. Her back split open on an agony too poignant to be borne. She would have been howling in terror and pain, but—_

_She couldn't breathe._

_Struggling against the pain that threatened to tear her to shreds, she forced her head up—and her back shrieked in protest, but she forced her face higher—she had to make sure._

_Paradise blue._

_With a final choked breath she collapsed again, her head falling against Cloud's knees, and she could feel his hands clawing at her shoulders, her hands, her face. She felt his desperate lips press to her forehead and cheeks, heard his wild pleas for her to stay with him._

_Cloud was safe._

_That was all that mattered._

_Behind her, the demon laughed, and firelight reflected off a bloodstained silver._

_Even if she died—_

_Cloud was safe._

_Darkness descended over her eyes._

_She couldn't breathe._

"TIFA!"

There were hands on her shoulders and someone was shaking her and she reached out and looked up and found—

Pale lilac.

"Zack!"

"Tifa!" He yelled, his voice a mixture of relief and fury. "Tifa, what the hell was that?! What were you doing?!"

"I'm fine," she panted, pressing a hand to her chest, realizing she was sweating. "I'm fine. I was just…remembering. I was—Zack. Gaia, Zack, I was—remembering! I remember! Zack, I remember!"

The doctor shook his head in raw confusion. "Tifa, I don't understand—"

She grabbed his face between her hands and shook him, demanding attention. "The night I was hurt, the night I got the scar on my back, the night I lost all my memories—I remember it! Zack, it wasn't Cloud! It wasn't him!"

Zack took her hands and squeezed gently, trying to calm her. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about, but—"

"No, no, you don't see!" she interrupted, yelling. "All this time he's been blaming himself for what happened to me. All this time—all that guilt—but _it wasn't him_! It was Sephiroth all along, it was never Cloud, he never had to feel that. Don't you see? _It wasn't him_!"

Tifa was on her feet in a flash, running out of the room before Zack had gathered himself enough to speak. The doctor remained kneeling on the ground for a few seconds, staring into the space Tifa had occupied only moments ago.

"…Wait, _what?!_"

…XxX…

"Yuffie."

She clenched her eyes shut and purred through her lips. She was warm and her hips were pillowed on soft and her head was braced against something hard and she was pretty comfortable all around, and no way was she getting up yet.

"Yuffie, wake up."

"Mn." Murmuring, she rubbed her face against the hard surface it rested on. It moved underneath her massage, and her eyes flew open. "Bwah!" She yelled, bolting upright.

Glowing amber eyes watched her, dully luminescent from behind Vincent's thick hair. "You certainly wake slowly, Yuffie."

"Gah! Um, so, yeah, sorry, I'll be, um, getting off now, right," she mumbled wildly, trying to scramble out of the bed, but she hadn't realized her legs were wrapped around Vincent's calf, and she only ended up tangling herself further in the sheets and Vincent's clothes. "Ow, that kinda hurt, really sorry, Vinnie, getting out now, yeah—"

"Yuffie."

His hand tangled into her hair, and she froze.

He turned her face back to him with those long fingers, and she whispered quietly, questioning: "Vinnie?"

His tone had changed, gone lower, and if she hadn't known Vincent and his complete lack of emotion for three years, she wouldn't have noticed, but she almost thought he sounded…chiding? Maybe even teasing?

"Yuffie…"

She murmured his name with just a twinge of disquiet. "Vinnie…?"

And his voice changed once more, becoming commanding, demanding. "Yuffie."

She liked that voice.

She liked that voice _a lot_.

The tremor that crawled down her spine made her voice shake when she whispered his name.

"Vincent…"

The hand that was threaded through her hair curled around the back of her head and pulled, dragging her closer. She came on her hands and knees, and Vincent sat forward and closed the last of the distance between them to cover her lips with his.

He held control this time, and he took the kiss slowly and gently, dragging his mouth over hers, pulling her lips between his own before moving away, then returning again. Her mouth was open for him, but he kept the kiss shallow, caressing her lips with his own, taking his time. He hadn't been with a woman for three years but it was so easy to kiss her, so easy to show her his passion like this, and he'd been wanting to do this for _so long_…

Her hands came up to tangle small fingers in his hair, and her lips parted on a sigh, a blatant invitation, but Vincent just tugged gently at her lower lip and backed away.

"I don't understand, Vincent…" Her whisper was a thread of sound in the poignant silence. His calloused thumb rubbed firmly over her cheekbone, his touch soothing the shivers she didn't know were shaking her. His voice was deep and rough when he spoke, the gravelly baritone she loved so much. "I apologize for my boldness. I should have said something—"

Small fingers rose to touch his pale lips, silencing him. Her eyes were still closed when he looked at her face. "Why…?"

The question hung in the air.

Several minutes passed before he groaned and buried his face in her shoulder.

"I want you," he growled, voice tight and dark. "I shouldn't want anyone but her—but I want you so much. You offer me so much, so freely…you have no knowledge, no understanding…but I want you…I want you so terribly that I might break you."

She wrapped a hand around the back of his head, the other curling over his shoulder, "Shh," she cooed wordlessly. "Shh, shh. It's all right. I don't break so easy. You're not gonna scare me off that quick, Vincent."

"I know—I only wish—" He placed an open-mouthed kiss in the hollow of her collarbone before tracing up the side of her neck with his nose. Another kiss went behind her ear, and then he was trailing his lips down her jaw, over her cheeks and brow, down the bridge of her nose. Pausing to lean his forehead against hers, he growled: "Please. Just for now—just for a while…be still…"

His lips came to rest against hers. It couldn't be called a kiss, just the faintest pressure of their mouths pressed together, breathing each other's breath.

He wanted her.

He needed her.

He needed her light to live.

…XxX…

"I remember."

Two words.

Two words had him whirling on his heel, and two words shut off every cell in his brain until all he could process was the sight of her, hair whipped into a dark storm around her head, her cheeks just slightly flushed with exertion, arms wrapped around her abdomen so her hands could curl protectively over her aching hips. A few seconds passed before a small group of neurons managed to conduct again, and the first, instinctive response fell from his lips before he could think better of it:

"Everything?"

She shook her head as she walked slowly closer, stopping just outside of his reach. "No," she murmured, closing her eyes as the arms around her waist tightened in a reflex reaction, nervous, self-protective. "Just from the one night—the night Nibelheim burned. And now—now I understand. It never made _sense_…and now I know why."

His hands hesitantly reached out to her, fingers trembling slightly, and his voice was tight with shame and regret when her name poured off his lips.

"Tifa…"

A smile flickered on the corners of her mouth. She sighed his name in response—

"Cloud…"

—and she fell forward.

It was easy, instantaneous instinct to fall to his knees and catch her arms in his hands and put his legs between her soft head and the hard ground, and half a second later he was kneeling with her hair spilling out over his legs and the ground. There was a small smile on her face, a content smirk, but she didn't respond when he screamed her name.

And the déjà vu blasted through him with impossible force, and suddenly his nose was full of the smell of smoke and the sanguine stench of blood, and the roaring of the flame was burning in his ears, and his eyes were full of midnight hair and crimson flame, crimson blood, and silver, silver steel…

Then a long-fingered hand yanked unmercifully on his hair, and a rough, deep voice was snarling over his shoulder:

"Strife, if you have hurt this woman, I shall be forced to thrash you again."

Against his leg, Tifa snorted out a laugh, shocking Cloud into the present. "He hasn't, Vincent," she whispered, reaching up to thread her left hand through the hair at the nape of Cloud's neck, without opening her eyes. "He's never once hurt me."

Quiet denial and heavy guilt weighed Cloud's voice down until it was almost too quiet too be heard, and he sighed. "Tifa—"

"I fell forward," she interrupted, thumb rubbing idly over the base of his skull. "And I fell into your arms. Exactly like I did just now. I can't fall like that without facing you, Cloud. But the cut is on my back." Her other arm rose to wrap around his neck, and she dragged herself into his lap as he sat motionless, struggling to process the information she was suddenly offering. Without opening her eyes, Tifa settled her face into the junction of his neck and shoulder, drowning herself in that comforting smell of him, like lightning and ash and sweat.

"It might not matter," she whispered, pressing her face to the pale skin of his throat. "Maybe it won't change how you look at yourself. But I think you need to know—that it was never you. That night…it wasn't you who hurt me. I looked Sephiroth in the face and I remembered. Cloud…I remember you."

His arms were limp at his sides, fingertips trembling, and he couldn't bring himself to hold her the way she wanted to be held, the way he wanted to hold her. His head was lost somewhere between past and present, and she was in his arms and alive, in his arms and dying, and he remembered her face as she threw herself between them, those wide, terrified, blood sin eyes.

Shaking, he slowly lifted his arms to lay them around her waist, the faintest hint of an embrace, and he turned his face into her hair and drew in a deep breath of that dark-honey smell, sweet and thick and seeping through his senses like molasses, drowning him.

"I was holding you," his murmured, face contorted as he struggled to remember, to think through the haze of horror and blood that had wrapped around that night. "You were in my arms—just like now—and I was holding you, and begging you to come back…"

She pulled her face from his shoulder and her arms from his neck to cup his jaw in her hands and stare him straight in the face, finally opening her eyes, meeting bottomless paradise blue with midnight blood and sin.

"I never left you, Cloud," she murmured, gently brushing her nose against his as he gasped for breath that didn't seem to deliver oxygen. "I never left."

"Now, before you two start making out in my hospital hallway, how about Cloud tells us how it feels to know he's been pointlessly angsting over something for the last seven years?"

Tifa's head whipped around so she could glare at Zack, who was leaning casually against the wall a few feet away, a careless smirk smeared across his face. The doctor winked mischievously before turning to Vincent and blithely asking, "Now, maybe I'm going nuts, but weren't you handcuffed to a bed last I left you?"

From behind, Yuffie leapt onto Vincent's back, wrapping her legs around his waist and leaning over his shoulder, proudly brandishing the unlocked cuffs. "A little pair of handcuffs is _nothing_ to the awesome skills of the Great Ninja Yuffie!" She declared brightly, clinging to Vincent's neck, a brilliant smile splitting her face. The thin man had a single hand wrapped carefully under her thigh, keeping her stable on his back, and if it were possible to smile without smiling at all, Vincent was doing so. Tifa lifted an eyebrow at Zack, who shrugged and leered in response, and the two silently agreed that there was clearly _something_ going on there.

"Well, Fair, it seems you've gathered up _all_ the little puppets."

Every smile slipped away and every head turned in sync to find the source of the silk-slick voice, and there was silver hair and cyan eyes, and Sephiroth looked up through the curtain of his hair and smiled dripping green poison.

"I feel I must thank you," he purred, the words drawled slightly, his eyelids drooping and newly-shaven face slack. Reno and Rude were practically dragging the man between them, his legs dragging limp along the ground, his arms lifeless at his sides. But his obvious weakness didn't lessen the venom wrapped around his every word when he continued: "To gather all of my cute little siblings here for me…it'll make it much easier than hunting them down one by one. Now I can destroy them all in one day, and Mother will finally begin to be pleased with me—"

In a blur, Zack was behind Sephiroth, a needle buried deep in the thin man's calf, and the pale mouth opened on a shocked gasp as the plunger was depressed, and the green eyes fell closed and the white head fell down onto his chest.

The doctor straightened, adjusted his coat, and turned to his two attendants. "Get him back in his cell, and put the chains on him. I want him under constant tranquilization. If he's ever more than 'barely sentient,' there'll be hell to pay, for all of us. You got that?"

Rude nodded; Reno flicked two fingers off his forehead in a casual salute, and the two men began hauling the silver-haired demon off to his padded room. Zack heaved a sigh and turned back to his patients and very, very confused attendant.

Yuffie's arms trembled around Vincent's chest as she whispered into his shoulder blade: "Why is _he_ here?"

Vincent's hand tightened on her thigh, and his low voice was steely when he growled, "It would seem you have some explaining to do, Fair."

Zack ran a weary hand through his hair and groaned quietly. "Yeah. I do. We all do." Scratching at the back of his head, the habitual motion comforting, he turned away from the vulnerable eyes upon him, trying to compose himself. "I…I'm going to go get Aerith. You all go wait in the group room. It's time for the full story—_everyone's_ story—to be told."

…XxX…

_A/N_

_Mnah. Took a while to get out, but it's extra-long for you, (3000 words instead of my customary 2000) so please have mercy._

_This was another one of those annoying chapters that took a ton of different versions to get right. The first time I wrote that third part, Tifa just glomped Cloud from behind and then there was a joy-fest. The second time I wrote it, everybody started bawling. I won't go into detail on any of the other tries, but it was only about the fifth time that I finally got it right. I'm very pleased with how it finally turned out._

_Things are simultaneously looking up and down for the Help-Center-ites. Their relationships are all improving, but Sephiroth is showing up. Which is just never good news. Yanno?_

_Well, in any case, I apologize for the delay; please please please review, and I love you all!_


	17. And I'd Never Forget

**Review Responses:**

**Kurogane7**: Everybody's connected, Sephiroth included. I'm glad you're interested in the details…I love them. And your reviews. Much love. **dark aura12**: Ah, the brothers are about somewhere. No one cares about them at the moment. They'll be back eventually, though. **LadyTeefStrife**: Erugh, I know, he's such a buzzkill, right? The happy ending approaches…but not for a while. And Vince is improving. He gets his time in this chapter. **YourChemicalRomancex**: Hey, I meant those to be a bit funny. The chapter was just too heavy without a bit of comic relief. Glad that you've joined up, I hope you keep reading! **NamioftheSea**: It is a sad, hilarious, ironic little moment. Poor man. And yes, Sephiroth desperately needs a life. That creepy creepy man.** CatchingForRain**: Your review made my _life_! I'm really happy you like the story and the relationships—I spend so much time just working with the characters in my head, seeing how they interact, it's good to know it works out. Welcome to the party, hope to keep seeing you! **Kita Kudai**: Thanks, I love working with characters and I try very, _very_ hard to keep them in character. A good AU is hard to achieve, but I think as long as the core of the character remains the same, it'll work out okay. I'm glad you've started reading, hope to see you in later chapters! **kerapal bubbles**: Yes indeed, the Yuffentine is love. And Cloud and Tifa, too. Every time they get a moment of fluff, I just drown in joy. **vLuna**: He does do that blaming thing a lot, doesn't he…they deserve the cuteness once in a while. **riceball793**: Wow, your reviews are awesome! Everybody is connected to Sephiroth indeed, and I'm finally going to get around to explaining it in these three chapters. And as for their ages—yeah, he is really old in the game, but in this lovely little AU, I have Vincent in my head as 28 and Yuffie as 19. Still a bit of a gap, but eh. **kitsune13**: Yay, you're reviewing me again! Ah, every time I get one of your reviews I die of joy. You're right—I don't think Cloud has really, _fully_ grasped what she's told him, but he will someday. And it is too early for love—and just in time for 'thrash.' I was considering how to introduce Vincent into the scene and the line just popped into my head and _would not leave_. I refused to leave it out. And Zack's motivations—I know I keep saying this, but I really do mean it—_will_ be explained, in two chapter's time. **Vanilla Raindrops**: Oh, juicy indeed it is. Your suspense is rewarded with much drama and delight. Thank you!

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

_Chapter 17: And I'd Never Forget_

_(I own…very little, come to think of it. Certainly not FFVII.)_

_This chapter is exceedingly Vincent-centric. He has a theme song to me: "Hand Of Sorrow" by Within Temptation. Once again, I'd recommend listening, if only for the pretty background music._

The silence in the room was heavy enough to be tangible, a thick taste upon the tongue, a dark weight upon the shoulders.

It was Vincent who broke it first, his voice quiet and slow, rumbling low in his thin chest. "Strife, do you wish to be my enemy?"

Blue eyes focused on the dark man, and Cloud slowly shook his head. Vincent rubbed his brow carefully, as if trying to ease a headache.

"Then I must ask you to stop insulting me." When Cloud responded with nothing more than a blank look, Vincent sighed and spoke again. "I have heard some account of what passed between you and Lockhart. However, this is third-hand information, and I would like you to tell me if I have been told true. As I understand it, you consider yourself inhuman because of the experiments worked upon you three years ago. Is this not so?"

Cloud turned to glare briefly at Aerith and Yuffie, who immediately assumed their best 'innocent' faces. "Gossips," he muttered sullenly, before raising his voice and answering, "Yes, it's true."

Vincent fixed a cold look on Cloud, who froze abruptly under the stare. "By saying this, you insult me," the taller man growled coldly. A single long-fingered hand rose to brush heavy black bangs aside, and for the first time Tifa had seen, Vincent pinned Cloud with the full force of both luminous amber eyes.

"You are not the only one with eyes that glow."

…

_He'd never seen a woman as beautiful as her before._

_Everything about her whispered of cold steel, frosted glass. She was beautiful, but it was an icy, faraway loveliness, like snow on a distant mountaintop. Eyes twinkled like diamond stars behind her glasses, white teeth gleamed like bleached bone within a pale-lipped smile, the smile that stung with mischief and curiosity when she grinned at him._

_Forcing himself to swallow, he offered a hand. "My name is Vincent Valentine. I'm a mercenary in the employ of the general Sephiroth. He's hired me to protect a Dr. Hojo and Mrs. Crescent?"_

_She shook his hand. Her skin was cold. It sent a shivering thrill up Vincent's spine._

"_Lucrecia Crescent," she responded with another icy-brilliance and snowflake-edges smile. "Please regard me kindly."_

_Her skin was so very, very cold._

…

_He'd never fallen in love before._

_A disappointing amount of his time was now spent in idleness, guarding those who very rarely needed guarding. When he was bored, Lucrecia would chat with him as she fluttered about the lab, cleaning, organizing, making the odd little changes and duties that Hojo allowed her to. She was a bright, intelligent woman with a sharp mind and a gentle voice. He doubted she spoke half of what she thought, and most of what she did voice was brushed aside or outright ignored by her husband._

_But Vincent willingly became a receptacle for her to pour her thoughts into. The young mercenary—for he was still young, only twenty-four, and she was already thirty—was an avid, attentive listener, carefully taking in everything she said and giving every word thorough consideration before responding. He was quiet and polite, gentle and chivalrous—and she instinctively poured open for him._

_She was brilliant. She was cold. Like a snowflake, every touch from her cool hands sent shivers through his spine, raised goosebumps on his arms, filled his head with steam. Somehow, she was a balm to his fever, the restless heat that never left except when banished by Lucrecia's touch. She was cool water to a man who had been dying of thirst all his life, and even as she poured her soul out for him, he drank her in greedily, wanting more of this brilliant ice, this snow-and-diamonds thrill._

_He knew he was doomed the first time he dreamed of her, all snowy white skin and pale pink lips and those terribly cold, terribly exciting hands._

…

_He'd never courted a married woman before._

_It was an unexpected rush, the taste of danger poignant, like Novocain on his tongue, an adrenaline rush only rivaled by fighting for his life. He slipped her flowers when Hojo wasn't looking, gave her small gifts while her husband slept. She blushed and trembled and whispered quiet "thank you"s and looked around with frightened eyes whenever she thought she heard Hojo. Several times, she begged him to stop, to not play games where her heart was at stake. But she spoke too late—and he was already addicted to that heady rush of danger, the mind-blowing triumph of getting away with it again, the icy thrill of her hands brushing his when he furtively gave her whatever little lover's token he'd brought her._

_She was terrified. Terrified of Hojo discovering them, terrified of actually falling for Vincent. He was young and lovestruck and determined to win her, and he looked at her with eyes that burned, eyes that sent heated thrills down her back. Ever little trinket he gave her put her heart in terrible danger of being melted, after she'd worked so long and hard to freeze it. Vincent's small gestures of affection were old-fashioned and platonic, coaxing her heart to come to him. His secretive courtship was both gentle and exciting, teasing her, lulling her into complacency, then melting her carefully constructed ice walls._

_She hated it._

_She loved it._

_She knew she was doomed the first time she kissed her husband and found herself imagining Vincent's lips._

…

_He'd never been worried about before._

_The frequency of attacks on the lab began to increase during the second year of war. At the beginning, he'd been fighting off one or two assaults each month. Now there were multiple attacks in a week. More and more frequently he appeared before Lucrecia, dripping blood and looking solemn, and she bandaged his wounds and washed blood from his skin and hair and once—only once—she pressed a kiss over some particularly fragile stitches before wrapping the wound in bandages, and he had held that kiss against his skin until the cut healed._

_One day, when he came to her with three wounds barely missing his vitals, she cried into his shoulder, and her sorrow scared him more than his own brush with death. She curled her fingers into his clothes and whispered into his collarbone:_

"_I'm scared for you, Vincent."_

_Placing long arms delicately around her, he touched her cheek with light, careful fingers, and murmured back, "Don't be. I'll be fine."_

_She was silent for a few seconds, then drew a shuddering breath to ask: "Do you know…what Hojo is doing here? In this lab?" He shook his head mutely, and she continued. "He's…making people stronger. Making them faster, more powerful than normal people. It didn't work at first, but it does now. He can make soldiers into supermen…"_

_Her hands clenched in his shirt and she looked up at him with ice-crystal tears pouring down her snow-slope cheeks, and her ice voice was warmed by desperation when she cried: "I know it's wrong and I know that I should trust you and I know it's terrible of me to ask this, but…let me give you the injections! You'd be stronger and faster and you wouldn't get hurt anymore! Please, Vincent…I can't do anything else…let me protect you, like this…"_

_He was young and stupid and falling in love, and he only wanted to make her stop crying, to never cause her tears again. The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them, because there was one other thing he wanted, too—_

"_I'll do it if I get a kiss for every injection."_

…

_He'd never kissed a married woman before._

_But she wasn't 'a married woman' to him, she was just Lucrecia, who was fragile delicate ice, and there were only five shots in the first series of injections but he wasted one of those kisses on her hands and another two on her cheeks. The fourth kiss was pressed to her brow and she was trembling and melting ice water into his mouth when he finally laid the precious fifth kiss on her lips. She tasted of icemelt and fleeting snowflakes on his tongue, and without warning, he was filled with the horrible, gut-wrenching feeling that the end had begun._

_Lucrecia was like a snowflake—_

_Impossibly beautiful. Exquisitely unique. A shock of cold against the skin. A blast of ice, a brief moment of frozen ecstasy. A snowflake, melting in the heat of his hands. Falling apart._

_So fleeting._

…

_He'd never lost his mind so completely before._

_The injections worked, all right. He was stronger, faster, more lethal than he'd ever been. But every time he moved too quickly or hit too hard he ended up with strains and sprains, torn ligaments and ripped tendons, his body literally pulling itself apart with his own strength. And even the injections themselves were like agony tearing through his veins, and after she gave him his tender kisses he would go to his bed and scream into his pillow and tremble all through the night, fighting against the urge to scream and scream and beg for no more._

_The pain was driving him insane. Somehow he was losing his mind, the breakdown of his body followed rapidly by his mind. Maybe he'd been losing it for only the last five minutes, or since the last set of injections, or since those first five precious kisses, or maybe he'd gone mad the moment he shook that pale, cold hand and felt ice shooting up his spine._

_But he knew he was going insane because Vincent Valentine would never sleep with a married woman, but here he was in bed with Lucrecia, counting out twenty kisses against her skin, and she was crying and giggling and gasping beneath him. His newly enhanced body could feel pleasure in ways his old body couldn't, but his torn-apart muscles could hardly take the stress of lovemaking anymore. When it was over, she panted out an accusation, saying he'd been teasing her by going so slowly, and he just heaved cold air into his dying lungs and let her believe what she would._

_He didn't want her to know he was falling apart._

…

_He'd never forget._

_He'd never forget the look of terror on her face, the ice tears glimmering on her cheeks, as she curled her hands low on her stomach and whispered in that fragile, breaking-ice voice:_

"_I'm pregnant…"_

_Every instinct had him reaching out instantly, wrapping one hand behind her head and the other coming to rest over hers, pressing gently into her abdomen, and he almost smiled as he daydreamed of their child growing inside her before the second thought rose to quell the building joy. He swallowed once and made sure his voice betrayed no jealousy when he asked:_

"_Is…is it mine?"_

_There was silence for a moment, then she turned her face into his shoulder and heaved a broken sob, fingers clenching into his red cloak, muffling her cries with the cloth. "I don't know," she wept, voice breaking. "I don't know…"_

_His hand clenched into a fist at the back of her head._

_Abruptly, Vincent pulled away, gripping her shoulders in his hands as he earnestly begged, "Run away with me!" Dull amber eyes were alight with hope, and he shook her gently, until she met his gaze. "Even if I'm not the child's parent, I can be its father. I'll take you both away from here, and I'll keep you safe with this strength, the strength you've given me! Let me raise this child with you, Lucrecia!"_

_Silence._

_A single stifled sob._

_Then she backed away from him, shaking her head, hands rising to pull his away from her shoulders. "I can't, Vincent," she whispered, turning her face away from him. "I just can't."_

_He was left empty-handed, reaching out for her, calling her name in a murmur…_

"_Lucrecia…"_

_After a steadying breath, she turned to look at him, and he saw in her eyes all the ice wall he'd thought he'd melted, but they weren't made of ice, they were made of crystal diamond._

_Unbreakable._

_She steadied herself and spoke in her ice-and-steel voice: "I am Lucrecia Crescent, the wife of Doctor Hojo. Any child of mine is his child. Whether it leaves my womb looking exactly like Hojo or if it is born with black hair and amber eyes—" she swallowed forcibly, trying to beat down the lump rising in her throat. "—it will be raised as a child of Dr. Hojo."_

_His weak hands shook and fell, his weak legs buckling underneath him, sending him to his knees. The strength of her love that had held him as his body tore itself apart was gone—leaving him powerless. He tried to reach out to her, but couldn't summon the strength to lift his arm. Desperate, he whispered, "But…I love you…"_

_She shook her head and backed away._

_He managed to lift an arm and reach out to her._

_As if to remind him that he had no right to touch, his body rebelled violently, sending shattering agony wracking through him, and he choked on his own cry as he turned his head to the side and vomited a fount of blood._

_The world faded into darkness, and the last thing he saw was the hem of her snow-white coat, stained with his blood, and the last thing he heard was her voice, not ice and steel, but melt and snowflakes, and she whispered:_

"_I'm sorry!"_

…

_He'd never forget._

_The next months passed in a blur of green, and agony, and her soft little whispers of "I'm sorry."_

_He'd never forget the night she walked down to his tube, wearing nothing but her perfect snow skin, glowing green with the liquid surrounding him, and he'd never forget the way she'd wrapped her arms around the tube and pressed her child-swollen flesh to the glass and whispered, "It's a boy, Vincent." Through the daze of pain and breakdown of brain tissue, and he desperately wanted to reach out and touch her, even if it was through the glass, just ONE MORE TIME._

_Then she sobbed out another familiar apology and ran from the lab, and if he'd had the strength, he would have screamed._

…

_He'd never forget._

_He'd never forget waking up to unfamiliar faces and hostile glares until he finally realized the lab had been taken by the enemy and then he was yelling and tearing himself apart just to stand and call her name, to demand to know where she was, but her new was only met with blank looks until he swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and called out for Dr. Hojo's wife, and then there was a strong hand on his shoulder and a young soldier with wild black hair shook him sternly and told him—_

_Lucrecia Crescent had gone into early labor—and both she and her unborn son had died._

_And the pain—_

_The fever—_

_Agony roared like fire through him, and his own hands clawed at his throat, and without the balm of her cool hands, his fever was hot enough to burn him alive, and he ripped himself to pieces on an endless, undying scream within the bounds of his mind—_

_MY FAULT!_

_He'd never allow himself to be forgiven._

_He'd never forget._

…XxX…

"I've spent a long time blaming myself for Lucrecia's death. But now, I think I may have been merely wallowing in my own self-pity. I felt worthless, as if I had ruined her life by forcing my way into it, then being unable to protect her from the chaos I brought with me. After she was gone, I was so occupied mourning the loss of her…I had lost the cold that dulled my pain, and allowed myself to be swallowed so much by the agony that I almost missed the warmth that came to melt it away…"

Aerith was crying a little and trying to hide it in Zack's shoulder. The young doctor looked quietly pained as he stroked his girlfriend's hair. Tifa was pale and wide-eyed, and her hand was tight on Cloud's wrist as the blond man gritted his teeth bitterly.

Vincent fixed Cloud with both luminescent eyes, his stare calm and reproving. "I have never once thought of this body as monstrous, because it is the body she gave me. Yet I also think…even though it was Lucrecia who gave me this body and this life, I cannot imagine she will hate me for promising it all to another."

Gently glowing amber settled on dark purple. Yuffie was sitting rigidly still, thick, fat tears rolling without pause down her cheeks, both hands clamped tightly over her mouth, forcibly holding back her sobs until Vincent had finished his story. Again the pale man gave her that soft smile-without-smiling, and reached one long hand to the small ninja.

"Yuffie," he called quietly. "Come here."

Her hands fell away from her mouth, her lips parted on a drawn-out wail as she threw herself into Vincent's waiting arms. He caught her easily, folding her legs into his lap, tucking her face into his shoulder as she wept, sobbing and screaming and sniffling his name. Cradling her carefully, rubbing his palms soothingly over her back, he patiently waited for her to finish crying the tears he would not.

When her wails had quieted into occasional sniffles, he tucked her carefully into his side and spoke once again, addressing the whole room, though the words were meant specially for the woman in his arms.

"I will have no more regrets," he stated simply. "What is done, is done. Though Lucrecia's smile may be lost to me forever, I have found instead a smile that I long for far more. I will use this strength, and this body, and this life, in the only way a life should be used. I will use it to live."

…XxX…

_A/N_

_I meant to post this last night, but I quite literally fell asleep on my keyboard while I was typing the author's note. Whoopsie._

_In any case, it's up now—hooray!_

_I apologize for flashback overload. And I still have more to go…Gah, this is exhausting. There's no Cloud/Tifa, no Zack/Aerith, not even much Vincent/Yuffie! GAH! But I needed to get Lucrecia and Vincent's relationship out there. I'm sick of knowing about it while you guys don't._

_Somehow, I both hate and love ending my chapters with corn like this. I feel corny…but I love it._

_Please review and I'll see you all next chapter!_


	18. Your Smiles Hide Scars

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Eighteen: Your Smiles Hide Scars

_(Disclaimer: I don't own anything related, remotely related, married to, dating, in love with, involved in a secretive love affair with, friends with, acquainted with, or even residing in the same vague area as FFVII. In other words, it's not mine.)_

She looked up into his eyes and almost started crying when she saw solid, pure peace there.

_She looked up into his eyes that glinted dull bronze and she was fifteen and he was twenty-four and she was about to fall for him, and fall hard. Everything about him whispered lean strength and rabid fury and, standing next to him, she could feel the body heat absolutely rolling off of him. It was intoxicating. It was exciting. It was completely and totally out of her reach._

_Her father went with the man to talk with that crazy general dude. She hung back and watched the three men threaten each other subtly, their restrained hostility obvious even from where she stood. Giggling, she watched her father bluster fruitlessly at the two stoic men. Sephiroth looked at both of the others with only thinly veiled disdain, and the black-haired man was consistently distant from his surroundings, seeming to hardly care at all. It was beyond hilarious to watch, and Yuffie clapped two hands over her mouth to hold back the outright laughter._

_At great length, negotiations were completed and money changed hands. The two taller men stalked off together, a menacing picture, and her father walked back to her, counting the bills in his hand._

"_Call your uncle, Yuffie," he ordered, brushing past her. "The Kisaragi clan's been hired to protect this lab."_

_She fumbled for her PHS for a moment before pausing to ask, "What about…that black-haired guy? He working with us, too?"_

_Godo snorted and tucked his payment into his shirt. "Him? He's some mercenary they hired to guard the inhabitants—that crazy doctor and his wife. Arrogant bastard thinks he's better than my whole clan…he'll see, the prick…"_

_Yuffie sucked in a breath and risked one more question. "What's—what's his name?"_

"_Valentine. Vincent Valentine."_

_She couldn't hold back a giggle._

_It was such a funny name._

…

_The Kisaragis were only to protect the land around the lab, keeping everyone—themselves included—out of that building. But then, a fifteen year-old Great Ninja Yuffie was a Great Ninja Yuffie all the same, and of _course_ she could just sneak past her dumb, slow uncles and weasel into the lab. She was, after all, Yuffie Kisaragi, and she would do _anything_ for a good look at a hot man._

…

_Sometimes he was unexpectedly, painfully normal, and for a few weeks she was in danger of getting bored with her very first crush. But then he would hear gunshots that were almost too quiet for her specially trained ears and he would be on his feet in a whirl and the bundle of red cloth that he always carried came undone. Cerberus fell neatly into his hand and a gold gauntlet appeared on his left arm and the red cloak went around his shoulders and suddenly he was dark and quick and lethal and _hot_. The entire process took less than two seconds but Yuffie loved it, that abrupt, instantaneous transformation from plain and boring to long, dangerous heat and hell and flame._

…

_She didn't like him being with Lucrecia. She was too cold for him, too reserved. The scientist cooled down all of that tense, ferocious heat that was Vincent Valentine, making him normal, making him plain. There was a fire inside Vincent that made him strong and special and beautiful, and it looked to Yuffie like Lucrecia was trying to put that fire out._

…

_Once, just once, only ever the one special, precious time, he caught her around the waist and wrenched her out of the way of an attacker who'd very nearly had the best of her, and his skin was like fire wherever it touched her bare skin, and she was suddenly, violently glad that he never looked down into her face, because she might have died of glee._

…

_She snuck into the lab so often that it really was a wonder she hadn't seen it happen before, but it was almost eighteen months into the war when she caught Vincent and Lucrecia kissing for the first time. Frozen in place, her immediate thought was to vomit, and the second thought was that she should run and tell Godo, tell Sephiroth, tell Hojo, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to tattle, and the words turned heavy and bitter in her mouth. For the first time _ever_ she wished she wasn't quite so Great of a ninja, because if she'd slipped up and made a sound as she'd approached them, maybe they wouldn't be kissing in front of her right now._

…

_Nineteen months into the war, she turned sixteen and broke into the lab as her personal birthday present to herself._

_The worst birthday gift of her life waited for her inside, the sight of Vincent, suspended in thick green fluid, floating, drifting, dying._

_She scrubbed viciously at her face and found herself laughing out loud, because it was just too ironic, y' know, that here she had the perfect chance to openly ogle that fine, fine body of his, and she couldn't at all, because she was crying too hard to see him._

_And it was just too freakin' funny._

…

_She never once snuck back into the lab after that day._

_Maybe she was afraid. Of going back and finding Vincent alive and well and in Lucrecia's cold, cold arms._

_Maybe she was afraid. Of going back and not finding him alive at all._

…

_It was the last battle of the war and every one of them knew it, but no one could really seem to grasp that their precious General Sephiroth had actually _lost_. But suddenly the General himself was there, ordering a hasty retreat into the lab, and Yuffie laughed and laughed as the Northern soldiers kept coming, closer, and closer, and closer._

…

_The last thing she ever heard her father say was "Get Yuffie somewhere safe!" before there was a sword through his chest and she giggled giddily as blood poured from Godo's slack lips, because the silly old geezer had loved her after all, and just hadn't had the sense to say so until he died._

_And that was just so freakin' funny!_

…

_She was thrown into a room with Lucrecia and then the door was blocked behind them as the fighting wore on outside, and Yuffie sucked in a steeling breath before she could turn and look at Lucrecia and then it was all gasping out again. She'd seen the scientist before and had a whole list of adjectives compiled in her head to describe the older woman: graceful, gentle, cool, delicate. That list flew out the window right there, because the only thing that could fittingly describe Lucrecia anymore was "freakin' _pregnant,_ man."_

_Without warning, the question blared like a crimson beacon in Yuffie's mind._

Is it Vincent's?

…

_The ground shook, and glass shattered with a sound like lightning, and there was an animal roar unlike anything a human could make._

_Lucrecia screamed, and there was blood on the ground at her feet._

_Yuffie pounded on the blocked door and begged for help, her cries lost to the roar of battle outside the room._

…

_Lucrecia was still screaming, and Yuffie knelt between her legs and lifted her skirt to confirm her fears and came away with a hand coated in blood._

_She stared at the crimson on her fingers and giggled._

_It's too funny, isn't it?_

…

_With one final, agonized wail that drowned out Yuffie's clichéd cry of "Push, or something!" Lucrecia birthed a premature, underweight boy into Yuffie's bloody hands. The younger girl wiped the purplish baby as clean as she could with Lucrecia's lab coat and handed him to her._

_Blood and afterbirth still poured alarmingly fast from between Lucrecia's legs._

_The baby was frail and much too early, hardly strong enough to twitch open his little eyes, not even strong enough to cry._

_With weakening fingers, Lucrecia stroked her baby's cheeks, and trembling lips smiled. "He looks just like his daddy," she cooed, and Yuffie had to put a hand behind her head to lean her forward so she could kiss the infant's forehead. "My baby boy…"_

_Within a minute, both mother and newborn son had died in that embrace._

_IT'S JUST TOO FREAKIN' FUNNY, ISN'T IT?!_

…

_When Northern troops tore down the barriers on the door, they found a dead woman in a pool of blood, holding her dead son, and a sixteen year-old girl with bloody hands, rolling on the ground, laughing hysterically. She saw them out of the corner of her eye and turned to grab at their gore-stained clothes with her bloody hands and writhed on the floor and laughed and laughed and laughed._

"_IT'S JUST TOO FREAKIN' FUNNY, ISN'T IT?!" she screamed._

_And laughed._

_And laughed._

_And laughed._

_And laughed…_

…

Yuffie hid a few tears in the blanket that Vincent always wore, for lack of his old cloak.

_Someday_, she promised silently. _Someday, you'll want to know, and I'll tell you. But not today. Not today, when you've finally laid down everything that you've been carrying for so long. This isn't the time for my story to be told. I can keep quiet if I really, really, really want to, and I want to right now. Because right now just isn't the time. But…I promise. Someday._

_Someday I'll tell you._

_That the baby didn't look like you at all._

…XxX…

Zack sighed and rubbed a hand over his forehead, trying to ease the headache that was knotting his brow. "Look, people," he rumbled, his deep voice immediately commanding the attention of the whole room. "I'm completely beat, Vince is probably dead tired from all the catharsis he's had going on over there, and Cloud and Tifa undoubtedly need some—a-_hem_—_private_ time, if you know what I mean. So what says we just call it a night?"

Yuffie extracted herself just far enough from Vincent's neck that she could intelligibly chime, "But we haven't had _your_ side yet, Doc!"

Lightly pinching her nose in reprimand, Vincent chided gently, amused, "Yuffie, you sound like a child asking for another bedtime story." The small girl pouted unsuccessfully for a moment before grinning despite herself and wriggling impossibly closer to Vincent. Taking this as a sign of her agreement, the man rose to his feet, supporting Yuffie with one arm as she clung to his side. Nodding at Zack, he murmured, "With my doctor's approval, we'll be turning in for the night." Zack grinned and flicked his head in a gesture of dismissal, standing as the two left the room.

Aerith, who was still trying to wipe tear trails off her cheeks, smiled up at Zack as he came to stand next to her. When she didn't stir, the doctor sighed and held out both arms. "Do you want to be carried, too?"

She blushed virulent pink and shot to her feet almost instantly. Grinning crookedly, Zack slung an arm around her waist and turned from Cloud and Tifa. "No one's monitoring the cameras tonight!" he called over his shoulder. Aerith punched him lightly in the side and threw Tifa an apologetic look over her shoulder. The dark-haired woman just shrugged and blew Aerith a wet kiss. Aerith winked and gently took hold of Zack's upper arm as they left the room.

It was very quiet for a moment.

Then soft fingertips wrapped around pale, calloused hands, and blood chocolate rose to meet paradise blue, and soft cheeks flushed delicate pink. Cloud's jaw tightened and he looked away, gritting his teeth. Frowning, Tifa rose to her feet and moved to kneel in front of him, fingertips reaching up to trace his jaw as he stared devoutly in the other direction.

"I don't understand," he growled through his teeth, even as he hands rose to gently wrap around her wrists, fingers caressing her forearms carefully. "Even _Vincent_—why? I'm a monster, inhuman—so _why_? Why do so many people try to convince me I'm not? Why…?"

Her wrists slipped through his hands until she could wrap her fingers around his and tug him down, out of his chair, so he was kneeling opposite her. Keeping her grip on his hands, she pulled his fingers to her face, wrapping his hands around the back of her neck. Satisfied he would stay there, she reached out to delicately trace fingernails through the hair that framed his face, from his forehead down to his throat and then repeating the cycle. On the seventh rotation, she let her fingertips continue down his neck, tracing veins and muscles, the arch of his trapezius, down into the hollow of his collarbone. There his skin disappeared underneath black cloth, so she settled for resting her hands on his shoulders and gently massaging the bone at the base of his neck.

Her answer was very quiet. "Because they love you."

When he tried to snort and turn his head away, she twisted her hands to catch his jaw and turn his eyes back to her. "It's true," she insisted, holding his gaze, trying to give him everything she felt with just that look, that tender stare. "All of them. You're Zack's best friend, and you're the only person who could ever sympathize with Vincent. Even Aerith and Yuffie are sweet on you—because you're kind and gentle even when you try to pretend you're not." Her hands dropped from his face to curl lightly around his chest, tugging him closer so she could rest her head on his shoulder. "What you've been, what you've done—they don't _matter_ to anyone here. You're just Cloud to us, and we love you."

A pause.

She swallowed.

"_I_ love you."

The groan rose in his throat.

"Tifa…"

Her fingernails dug crescents into his shoulder blades as she pulled him closer, and his hands knotted in the hair at her nape in that already-too-familiar gesture, the telltale tightening of pale hands that meant want and restraint, desire and tension. She held him tight, pressing all the hard planes of him against the soft pliancy of her, and despite himself one hand left her neck to wrap around her waist and tug her—impossibly—closer.

"I love you," she repeated, and kissed his cloth-covered shoulder gently. "I love you." The next brush of lips went into the angular hollow of his collarbone, her nose pressed into his neck. "I love you…" Over his Adam's apple, and he hummed with tension, vocal cords trembling as he groaned quietly. "I love you." In the corner of his jaw, the soft skin that was marred only by the tiniest hint of fresh stubble. "I love you…" Against his temple, rising up as tall as she could on her knees to gain the height she needed. "I love you." In the hollow between his nose and cheek, dangerously close to his mouth, and she could feel his breath, hot against her chin.

Gently nudging his nose with his, she reveled in the feeling of his hot, shallow breathing ghosting over her face. "However many times I have to say it," she whispered, pressing her forehead to his cheek. "I'll tell you over and over again, until you finally, really _understand_ it. Every morning, right when I wake up; every night, the last thing I say before I fall asleep. I'll say it as many times as you want me to, Cloud. Every day, for the rest of my life. I love you."

Her head fit perfectly into the hollow of his shoulder, and she gently, insistently pushed him down with her, curling up on top of his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, dumbstruck. He heard her breathing deepen and slow and knew she was half-asleep already. Stretching, he managed to snag a pillow and blanket from a couch nearby, and he tucked the pillow under his head and wrapped the sheet around Tifa carefully, suspicious that she was more than a little punch-drunk from lack of sleep.

He could almost have written the past five minutes off as senseless dream-talk if it weren't for the quiet whisper against his throat as he drifted into sleep:

"I love you, Cloud…"

…XxX…

_A/N_

_Hey, sorry, I'm not doing review responses this time, 'cause it's one in the morning and I'm about to fall asleep on my keyboard but I really, REALLY need to get this posted, it's already so late._

_However, since multiple people asked, troublingly enough: No, Lucrecia's baby is NOT Sephiroth. I mean, I know that's the canon, but Sephiroth is already a grown general, who hired Vincent. That's pretty, y' know, impossible._

_Yuffie was surprisingly hard to write this chapter, until I finally just gave up and ran with the pure fragmentation of her thoughts and memories. Then it practically wrote itself._

_And, since there was an abominable absence of it last chapter, some Cloud/Tifa fluff for you. Even if he still doesn't think he deserves them, at least he's learning to accept her feelings. Poor dork._

_One more chapter of flashbacking to go, then plot can resume. Thank goodness._

_I DO read every single review and I love them more than life—maybe tomorrow I'll do some individual responses in PMs, but I'm really just too tired tonight. Please forgive any spelling errors and please, PLEASE review._


	19. But I Cannot Heal

Review Responses:

**Kurogane7**: Never seen Cowboy Bebop…Also, it's Hojo's baby. I mean, he's her husband. She was cheating with Vincent. She's not _that_ much of a whore. And yeah. Cloud's still a numbskull. The dork. **kerapal bubbles**: I'm sorry! It had to be done! These people can't just be insane for no reason! **Kita Kudai**: Sephiroth _does_ just kind of leave suffering behind him. The jerk. Thanks for the fluff compliment, I love fluff. **LadyTeefStrife**: Thanks, I was pretty much striving exactly for 'bittersweet, twisted, and sad.' And Cloud is having a hard time changing the mindset he's had for the last eight years…but Tifa's trying damn hard to kick him out of it. Thanks for the review! **NamioftheSea**: Yeah, poor Yuffie. She was only sixteen, man. And Cloud _is_ improving, _finally_. **ken08002**: …Thanks, I guess? I mean, I still like Lucrecia well enough. She's dumb, but good at heart. **Darkhorse666**: I love you, too, darling. _The baby had to die._ It was a loose plot point otherwise! **Nineveh03**: Hah, thanks, I had a blast with the creepy. Lucrecia's death, too, totally fun to write. And I'm sorry for their idiotic roller-coaster of a relationship. It's just the only way I can figure Cloud would react to his conflicting impulses, y' know? I'm trying to tone it down a bit, sorry. And I love dark, bloody, horrifying pasts, too. They're a guilty pleasure to write. **vLuna**: Yeah, if it'd been Vincent's baby I would've died. I just couldn't be that mean. Also, HAH. Perfect resolution to the Cloud/Tifa angst, right there. **riceball793**: Thanks, I'm glad you like the sad. He _is_ a dweeb. I'll throw a shoe at him in your place. See? *flings shoe* _You idiot man, Cloud!_ **7th fire**: Thank you, I try.

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter 19: But I Cannot Heal

_(I don't own Final Fantasy VII. I've typed this nineteen times now. You'd think someone would get the idea eventually.)_

Zack Fair was never a very private person. He spoke easily and freely, eager to listen, eager to tell. Without blinking he would divulge information that other people considered too personal to be shared. Zack Fair easily told everything about himself.

He looked around the room.

Three people who were—or had very recently been—psychologically disturbed watched him intently. One person who was calm and serious and curious watched him patiently. One person…

One woman with eyes that whispered love and understanding watched him gently. They were the only eyes in the world that knew him—knew _all_ of him—knew everything about him.

Her eyes were wide open, and _her_ eyes swam with _his_ pain.

Only every shared with one person, too dear and too wonderful to not be told…the taste of memories was bitter on his tongue.

…

_The taste of failure was bitter on his tongue as he slowly, methodically ripped another college rejection letter into shreds. How many times did that make now? He'd lost track of the count after the fourteenth—_

_His father came up behind him and, recognizing the tatters of paper in his hand and the slump of his shoulders, slapped him on the back in a halfhearted attempt at comfort. "'Nother rejection, kid? Well, 's not so bad. You can spend a year helping me out in the shop and reapply next year—"_

_Zack shrugged one shoulder before shaking his head violently and straightening up. His father backed away with a look of quiet trepidation._

_Broad shoulders rolled, a strong neck popped, and Zack scratched viciously at the back of his head before turning around with a face-splitting grin and brightly chiming, "Screw that."_

_It was a grin that might have frightened anyone but his father, who was a man very like Zack but not like him at all. That grin might be something unpleasant and sharp but there was a gleam of spirit in his son's eyes, and the older man threw an arm around his son's shoulders and pounded him gently in the side._

"_I told you, Dad. I don't get into college, I'm joining the military."_

"_Gonna be a soldier like your old man?"_

_Fist met fist, and there was understanding there, understanding of two men who were too much alike to ever be the same._

"_Yeah, Dad. Just like my old man."_

…

_Two years at training camps and drill companies and taught Zack he was hot stuff. He was stronger, faster, more enduring, more capable than anyone else in the ranks. He got promoted easily. Very quickly, he learned how to follow orders—more slowly, how to give them himself. Before long he had a group of friends and followers who swore by his strength, and trusted him implicitly._

_Two years at training camp taught him he was hot stuff._

_Two weeks at war taught him he was an insect._

_However strong or fast or skilled he might be, that didn't matter at all when there were two hundred men trying to kill him at once. He couldn't hit bombs with a sword. He couldn't fight off an army single-handed. Two weeks into the war and all of those kind, faithful friends from back home were dead. Another day without guidance and he might've been, too._

_Angeal saved his life and he wasn't ever going to deny that. Angeal was an old hand, war-torn and bitter, haggard and gruff in that way that only old soldiers were. The older man taught him how you lived through war. He saved Zack more times than either of them could remember to count—and he gave him the knowledge the younger man desperately needed. Cunning, practicality, calm stoicism in the face of unspeakable tragedy. It was what Zack required then, more than reassurances or pep talks—because when it came to how to fight, how to survive—Zack learned faster than anyone._

_And Angeal, for all he would deny it, got attached to the kid._

…

_He had short hair when he joined the army. They'd shaved nearly all of it off at training camp, but it quickly grew out to its normal length again. He kept it there for two years, until the war came around and he decided, against all logic, to grow it out long._

_He'd never told Angeal the reason. The older man never asked. It didn't matter between soldiers._

_But Zack knew he was never going to forget—the blank brown eyes, the dirt and blood and vomit smeared into cropped black hair, the light pink lips stained red with blood and pale, ash-cold skin. It was the first man he'd ever killed, for all his bluff and bluster, and as bombs exploded around him he'd had to lie in a ditch with the body for hours on end, until it was safe enough to emerge._

_He'd laid there and looked into the face of the dead man._

_Laid there for _hours.

_After two hours, he began to think the man looked familiar._

_After three hours, he was sure he'd seen him before._

_After four hours, he knew he'd known this man, and known him well, and he was more terrified than anything that he couldn't remember how, or where, or when that was._

_After five hours the bombing stopped and Angeal came to drag his near-comatose ass out of the ditch, but not before Zack had ripped off the soldier's dog tags and placed them around his own neck._

_Back at their camp, he'd taken a shower and looked in a mirror and finally realized where he knew the man from. With those tags around his neck he looked at himself, pale fingertips rising to press against his skin, to press against the mirror, and he knew. The short black hair, the pale lips, the ashen skin; except for the eyes—wide and lilac instead of almond-shaped and brown—he looked exactly like the man he had just killed._

_He walked back into the bathroom and threw up violently. Then he flushed those dog tags down the toilet with his vomit. It screwed up the plumbing for five days. He didn't care._

_It was then that he pushed his hair back out of his eyes and started growing it long, because he would do anything—ANYTHING—to be able to look in the mirror and not see the face of a dead man every time._

…

_Angeal reminded him of his father, somehow. He thought that maybe if his dad had ever had to go to war, had ever been through the battles that Angeal had been through, the two men would have been a lot alike._

_When the older man started calling him "Puppy," he couldn't even get mad about it, because he still remembered that his dad used to call him "Pup" back when he was just a little kid._

_Angeal didn't pat him on the back or punch him in the shoulder the way his father did, but the gestures were still there—the hands on his shoulders that carried much more weight than a hand had any right to; the teasing ruffling of his hair that made it even more disorderly than it already was; the way he flung anything in reach at the younger man whenever he was annoyed._

_It was familiar. It was comforting in that childish way that told him, whenever he was in trouble, someone bigger and stronger and smarter was there to take care of him. Maybe Angeal wasn't as fast, or as strong as him, but that didn't matter in the mind of a child, because Angeal was just a bit taller and a whole lot older and so much wiser than he. Zack had too much energy and too much muscle to use, and Angeal didn't have that wild strength of youth anymore, but something about the man simply…endured._

_So, if the first time Zack was seriously injured, he caught a fever and clutched at Angeal's hand and called him 'Father, father,' could he really be blamed?_

_Especially since Angeal's only response was a grin and a light bonk on the forehead and a quiet, chiding, "Stupid Puppy."_

…

_That might've been the first time Zack was wounded, but it wasn't the last, and after every battle Zack had an injury of some sort. Day by day they varied in severity—some hardly bothersome, others bordering life threatening, and some dancing the line over fatal and just barely staying on the side of life. Several times the young man was sent away from the war to be treated and to heal, and every time Angeal muttered false-ringing complaints of "Good, get the dang annoying puppy out my hair," and quietly hoped that the young man would go home and STAY there, but no matter how severe his injuries Zack would be back within two weeks, grinning just as brightly and running back to his mentor, and every time Angeal could only stare at him and quietly mutter, "Go home, already!" and turn away before he grinned._

_Angeal already had scars—both old and fresh._

_Zack was accumulating them quickly._

_It was selfish of the older man to be glad every time the younger came back, because he knew he'd be wounded, again and again—and war scars don't fade._

…

_No matter what they gave him to fight with, it broke in his hands._

_Zack was a person who sometimes forgot that not everything around him was as strong as he was. He used his sword like he used his body—he pushed it to its limit and then farther, utilizing it to the point of abuse, until it was exhausted, because he forgot that the blade couldn't just recover like he could._

_He'd always silently envied Angeal his massive Buster Sword, a blade heavy enough to convey the full force of his swings, strong enough to stand up to the abuse he subjected it to. Once, arbitrarily, when he'd caught Zack admiring it, Angeal had murmured, half-dreaming, that the younger man would inherit it someday._

_But he hadn't wanted to inherit it like this._

_He hadn't cried, not once, not through the whole war, but there were fat, hot tears pouring down his cheeks and his nose was running and Angeal reached weakly up and hit him on the side of the head._

"_Take the sword, Puppy," the older man scolded, and Zack sniffled loudly and shook his head and pressed his hands over the massive bleeding hole in Angeal's chest, and blood welled up between his fingers. Angeal's fingers knotted in his hair and tugged, hard, and Zack whimpered and met the older man's eyes. "Take. The. Damn. Sword."_

_To wrap his hands around the hilt meant to take his hands off the dressing on Angeal's chest. Zack grunted and tried to wipe his face on his shoulder and didn't move his hands._

"_Zack."_

"_I'm not letting you die."_

"_Zack, I don't have a wife. I don't have a son. There's no one waiting for me to come home. There's no one there to take this sword up. No one but you."_

_There was blood and dirt and tears, and explosions were going off somewhere, and there was screaming and screaming and screaming._

"_Take the sword, Zack."_

_Bloody hands curled around the hilt, and bloody lips smiled, and Angeal died right there in front of him, and Zack held the Buster Sword close and cried and cried and cried._

_He buried the older man and marked the headstone with his old sword and left him there with nothing but a quiet, "I'll carry it well…_

"_Dad."_

…

_He wanted it to end. He wanted it to end more than anything._

_The first time he came face-to-face with the legendary General Sephiroth, he had Angeal's sword in his hands and vengeance in his heart. He knew he was making the man a scapegoat for his loss. He didn't care. For all that Angeal had been better at living through it than anyone, Zack knew the older man had hated war. And this general was making war._

_In Angeal's name, Zack was going to end it._

…

_The tides of the battle turned eventually. Zack's side took the offensive when before they'd only tried to hold their borders and defend their territory. Sephiroth was losing too many loyal men, and every day he had to draw his lines back a little more._

_Intel came in, of a little lab behind the lines. Sephiroth's last refuge, they called it, the last place he would defend if worst came to worst, the last place he would retreat to._

_By that time, Zack Fair was high enough in rank to walk right into the command tent, stab the Buster Sword deep into the floor, and demand that he be sent on the mission to take the lab._

_They sent him. He was Angeal's heir. _

_What else could they do but send him?_

…

_The information was good. The moment Sephiroth got wind of an attack on the lab, he abandoned the front lines completely and flew to intercept the attack. Without his command, his flustered troops fell apart easily. Captives were taken quickly and efficiently, the mass of the soldiers surrendering almost instantly._

_Sephiroth took command of the clan of ninjas guarding the lab and brought them inside. It wasn't a bad plan. The building was practically a fortress._

_But Zack was pissed off. And Zack had the Buster Sword. And the Buster Sword could cut through whatever the hell it wanted to. Up to and including walls._

…

_By the time Zack's troops had beaten a path to the inside of the lab, they knew something had gone very, very wrong._

_For one thing, Sephiroth was killing his own men. For another, the lab was full of green test tubes, and those green test tubes were full of people._

_The doctor, Hojo, was dead on the floor. The ninjas, despite their general's apparent betrayal, turned and fought the Northern soldiers. Sephiroth was killing everything with reach._

_Everything was blood and piss and vomit and green shit leaking from tubes and blood and blood and blood._

…

_Zack was on his knees at Sephiroth's feet, looking up into the merciless eyes of a madman, and what troops were left cowered in the corners, and lilac met blankly glowing green and it was a green that knew no mercy._

_He looked up into green and wondered:_

Am I really going to let Angeal down this easily?

_And then Sephiroth looked down at him and smiled._

"_I know that sword," he whispered. "That's not your sword."_

_Zack ground his teeth. The ground was soaked with blood, enough that the shins of his pants were stained bright red with it. Unfeeling green glared down at him._

"_Did you enjoy watching him die?"_

_Then Zack's ears were full of an animal roar, a bellowing that was more feral and wild and desperate than the scream of a human could ever be, and the sound of shattering glass broke through the room like lightning turned to sound._

_Sephiroth blinked and looked over in puzzlement._

_You know some SERIOUS shit is happening when Sephiroth is puzzled._

_But then Sephiroth was smiling again; smiling insanely, so wide it split his face apart, and Zack was reminded horribly of another grin, a cocky, naïve grin and the words, "Screw that…"_

_Thin, pale lips parted, and that voice like slime and velvet and snakeskin hissed, "YOU."_

_Zack's head slowly turned and found a third man, standing in the shattered remnants of his test tube, fists bleeding from where he'd smashed his way through. He was naked and dripping green fluid, vomiting it up and frantically ripping IV's and needles from his arms and throat and spine._

_Zack's eyes instinctively hunted for those eyes, and he found the endless blue of the cloudless sky, a blue so deep and terrifying and it was overwhelmingly full of rage and fury and pain, pain without a bottom, pain without an end…_

_Cloud Strife picked up a fallen soldier's sword and snarled, "Not again."_

_Sephiroth's head quirked like a curious puppy, and that grin was still wrapped around those might-have-been-handsome features, and his eyes were a bottomless green to match the endless blue, and his eyes were laughing without mirth, and his eyes were insane._

_But so were Cloud's._

"_I WON'T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN!"_

_Sephiroth laughed aloud, turning to face the blue-eyed man, and his arms opened as if to hug him, that pale mouth opening, that green silk voice singing a joyous cry of "Little brother…!"_

_And then there was a sword through his chest and the general fell back onto the floor with Cloud on top of him and he was laughing and laughing and Cloud was crying._

_And then there was more blood._

…

_It was a week later, and the Buster Sword was a soothingly secure weight on his back to keep him from trembling when he stared down the President of his country._

_The man leaned back in his chair and smiled._

_Zack's first thought was, _Sephiroth wannabe.

"_Look, Fair. I believe in one thing above all: every man has his price. You fought on the front lines of the war, so you know well enough—there aren't many survivors. Now, we saved General Sephiroth's life so we could bring him to 'justice.' Of course we _could_ send him to trial; we _could _put him before a grand jury with delegates from every nation—if the man hadn't gone completely insane. Any sort of lawyer will get him off on an insanity claim, and he gets sent to some asylum in the south for the rest of his life. That is, until he breaks out and begins killing again."_

_Zack tightened his jaw and forced a "Yes, Sir," from his lips._

_The President nodded in a self-satisfied manner. "Now here's what I think, Fair. You're a soldier who's seen more than enough of war. Thing is, your term of duty isn't up yet. You get put back on active duty, next little skirmish that starts up, you're gonna be on the front lines again. So I'll make a deal with you. I'll end your term. I'll put you in the reserves. But you're going to live a lie for me."_

_Allowing the slightest hint of a questioning tone to slip into his voice, Zack muttered, "Sir?"_

"_Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to set you up with a doctorate. You're going to become Doctor Zack Fair, owner and operator of a nice little asylum in the capital. You're going to take in that drugged-up mercenary, the batshit little ninja girl, the blonde one that nearly killed Sephiroth, and Sephiroth himself. You're gonna take any frontline soldiers I order you to, and you're gonna keep 'em all nice and locked up in there, and no one will ever hear word of this nasty business again._

"_In exchange for that, I'll give you all the money you could ever want. Enough to run the asylum, and more. You'll never have to go to war again; you'll live a nice cushy life as Doctor Fair. So what do you say, Fair? You ready to leave behind the soldier for some peace?"_

_Zack Fair thought for a moment._

_He thought of the mercenary, Vincent Valentine, weeping in bed, too weak to move or stand, emotionally and physically torn to pieces._

_He thought of the little ninja girl, Yuffie Kisaragi, laughing and laughing and laughing herself to death, and smiling even as she clawed at him with bloody hands, and laughing._

_He thought of the poor blonde man with the endless blue eyes, Cloud Strife, and he thought of his pain and those impossible blue eyes that seemed to go on into agony eternally._

_Was he really just going to let three people that needed help so badly slip away from his hands?_

_Zack Fair swallowed his pride and his distaste and gripped the edge of the Buster Sword until his palm bled._

"_Sounds like a plan, Sir."_

…

_He needed to hire a girl. He had an asylum. Full of old soldiers. If there wasn't a chick in there, they were all going to go even more batshit insane then they already were._

_The paper ran a personals ad for him. He didn't actually care that much, and anyone who knew him could tell. His life was a sham and he knew it—and it disgusted him. He disgusted himself._

_It was at that point in his life when she walked straight into it._

_She appeared in his life, all pink blushes and pink dresses and shy little smiles and sweet, gentle eyes; green eyes, but they were eyes that overflowed with life, and when he looked at her he thought of what Sephiroth might have been if he hadn't been insane._

_He looked at her and choked on his throat, because he'd been at war for so long that he'd forgotten how much he'd liked pretty girls back before he learned about blood._

_She had him tripping over his words and tongue-tied with unexpected nervousness when she shook his hand and gave him a green-eyed look that smoldered and whispered in that gentle little voice, "Nice to meet you. I'm Aerith."_

…

_Somehow, he could never tell if he was courting her or she was courting him. All he knew was that he was trying to lure her closer, and she was opening her arms up for him, and they were like planets getting sucked in by each other's gravity, and it was going to be a beautiful cataclysm when they finally collided._

_It was simple, blatant temptation—her little looks over her shoulder, the way she purposely flicked her braid to brush sensually in the small of her back, the delicate, almost innocent touches that set his heart to racing and filled his head with static. He responded in kind, not one to take a defensive—he touched her more and more, learned how to whisper so that his breath poured over her skin, taught himself the little, innocent places he could press his hands to her body and make her tremble and blush pretty pink._

_It was the first time she found him after he'd had a nightmare (Angeal dying again in his arms, and Sephiroth standing over them and laughing, laughing, laughing, and Cloud was weeping and then Angeal was Aerith and bleeding bleeding bleeding and he was screaming and the Buster Sword shattered and broke and a brutal shard pierced Aerith's heart—) And she found him gasping and coughing around the lump in his throat and wrapped him in her arms and just let him hold her bruisingly tight until he could breathe again._

…

_She was the only person he'd told the whole story._

_It was the first and last time he'd cried since the war._

_Aerith hated war. But she let him weep then, and she cried a little bit, too, and combed her fingers through the hair that he had grown out to forget that one soldier, and traced her fingers over the scars that littered his shoulders, and kissed the scar on his jaw, and just let him cry. Without condoning or condemning him, she simply took him as he was._

_Aerith was like that._

_She accepted._

_Everything. All of him._

_She kissed the scar the Buster Sword had left on his palm and then he kissed her for the first time, and she was soft pretty pink, a gentleness he'd forgotten in the brutality of war, and he knew right then. The very first time her lips met his, he knew he was never going to be able to let her go again._

…_XxX…_

Zack looked at the three people whom he had sold his dignity and his soldier's honor for.

He looked at the radiant, dark-haired woman who had come to save them.

…He looked at the sweet, gentle, green-eyed angel who had come to save _him_.

And he told them all his story.

Remembering how that sweetness had washed the bitter taste of memories from his mouth.

…XxX…

_A/N_

…_Ye gods._

_I spent all week contemplating how to write this and then today just get randomly hit by this ATOMIC BOMB OF INSPIRATION. My fingers couldn't move fast enough to keep up, I swear. It was insane. Total writing high._

_I know, it lacks in Cloud/Tifa again, but…c'mon. It's Zack Fair. You have to love Zack Fair. *I* love Zack Fair. You may have noticed by the fact I wrote 4000 words about him._

_I kinda feel bad about introducing and killing Angeal in the same chapter, but…I'm sorry! It had to happen!_

…_I blame _All Quiet On The Western Front _for this chapter. It infects me._

_In any case, we are AT LAST done with the flashbacking, and finally the plot will resume next chapter._

_PLEASE review and I'll see you next chapter!_


	20. The Man Behind The Mask

**Review Responses:**

**TenkaCat**: It is hard, isn't it? I guess I should apologize for being so romance-centric, but I'm a romance writer, I can't help it. **Kita Kudai**: I know, Zack had a crap life too. And I _liked_ Angeal. They really had a father-son thing going on. **Darkhorse666**: Love, making out happens when there's no plot going on. No whining, you whiner.** kerapal bubbles**: I hate to say it, but if your heart broke, that means I'm doing something right. I am afraid there is no happy past for a FFVII character. They're all doomed to tragedy. **Kurogane7**: River Tam? Really? Explanations are done, actually—flashbacks exhaust me. **Nineveh03**: I'm sorry! I love them, too, but plot has to happen _sometime_. Action approaches, I assure you. **iceQueen02**: …There's not much CloTi at all, really…I have failed you… **NamioftheSea**: Indeed. I'm big on, "Oh, his life sucks, but he has a girlfriend!" Kadaj, Yazoo, and Loz…will be explained eventually. They annoy me, so I'm leaving them lying about for now. **beaucoup riant**: Well, I'm very glad you stuck it through to the end! I don't like the first chapters, either—I keep meaning to rewrite them and I _finally_ started on it, but it's gonna be a while before I get them reposted. Thank you for reviewing, it brings much joy! **vLuna**: Indeed, this is so. No CloTi fluff, really…but there will be some before long…I promise! **xTincampi**: I know, the poor, lovable baby…but if you don't like mush, I'm afraid there will always be more of it, so…I'm sorry… **ken08002**: Indeed, a good woman. **riceball793**:You're welcome, my friend. I never actually played Crisis Core so I just made my own past for him. Yay for non-canon! **7th fire**: Thank you, I'm flattered. Look at me, I'm blushing. **Leah Conner**: …Woman, there are not enough words for how much I love you. When you first started reviewing, I was just beginning to write this chapter, and just as I would get sick of writing—BAM—another review from you to encourage me. It was _amazing_. You're one of those wonderful readers who just perfectly clicks with the story—thank you _so much_ for your wonderful reviews!

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Twenty: The Man Behind The Mask

_(I don't own Final Fantasy VII. Otherwise I would know a lot more about the characters. Like the…interesting man who's going to appear in about three sentences…)_

The harsh clapping was like a roll of thunder, magnified infinitely by the silence of the small room.

"A touching story, Fair, absolutely heartbreaking. Look at me, I'm tearing up."

Every head in the room turned to the source of the sound.

They found a man in a perfectly trimmed white suit, with short, light blonde hair and a poker face that would have given Sephiroth a run for his money. The smile that twitched on the corners of the pale mouth meant absolutely nothing—and gave absolutely no hint of what was occurring behind those grey-blue eyes. He was the embodiment of cool, calm, and collected—

And he was so dang familiar, Tifa would have _sworn_ she'd seen him somewhere before, but for some reason she just couldn't quite place him—

"The _hell_ are you doing in my hospital, Shinra?" Zack blustered, rising to his feet, automatically reacting to the undetectable hostility of the pale man.

And then it clicked.

"_Vice President Shinra?_" Tifa squeaked helplessly, suddenly realizing she was staring at the second-most powerful man in the world. "Son of President Shinra? Next in line to the presidency?"

A thin, white hand patted her head idly as Rufus stepped into the middle of the group, not even looking down. "You poor children really don't get out much, do you? Properly, that should have been: _President_ Shinra, son of the late President."

Zack crossed the remaining distance between him and Shinra in a blink. Within the same breath, Cloud and Vincent were on their feet, old instincts kicking in, ready to back up the bigger man.

The words emerged from Zack's teeth like an animal growl. "You killed the President?"

Rufus's lower lip pouted out by a millimeter. "Absolute nonsense. I have reports from three different coroners that testify that he died by a perfectly natural heart attack."

Jaw working, Zack hissed, "Three _bribed_ coroners."

Again the pale hand rose, this time to pat Zack's shoulder companionably. "As are you, _Doctor_ Fair," he sighed sympathetically. "As are you…" Without another word he brushed past the black-haired man, slipping smoothly into the just-vacated chair. His knees crossed elegantly, hands rose to carefully brush nonexistent dust from the lapels of his white suit before folding carefully atop his thigh.

"To answer your previous question, Fair, I have come to observe and formulate an opinion of my hospital, nothing more. You needn't worry so."

Whirling on a heel, rapidly reassembling his composure, Zack quirked an eyebrow at Shinra and asked, "_Your_ hospital?"

Three of the most lethal men in the world glared down at him, and Rufus Shinra smiled in a way that could have meant quiet amusement or it could have meant horrible fury, but in all likelihood it meant nothing at all, nothing but a perfect, marble-blank poker face. "Yes, Fair. _My_ hospital. What was this establishment paid for if not Shinra family money?"

"How about Fair family money?"

Eyes glinted like blued steel—irritation or victory? "Oh, my. You must make quite a lot of money for a doctor that no hospital has ever heard of or hired. Or, perhaps, for a retired soldier?"

Zack gritted his teeth and managed just in time to turn the movement into a grin, and replied, "Veteran's compensation."

Again, grey-blue flared, blatant victory this time, as if he had awaited those very words throughout the whole of the conversation. Rufus's next words were toneless and inflectionless, calm and absolutely unthreatening, and those three words struck Zack harder than a sucker punch to the gut.

"_Of what war?_"

The room was suddenly very still and quiet.

It took less than half a second for an unspoken message to flash like lightning between Cloud and Vincent, and approximately seven hundred and fifty-three milliseconds more for them to cross the space and appear at Zack's side, each with a hand clenched tight on his upper arm. Zack began to tremble barely a second after their hands closed around him, and he might've been shaking with laughter or cold or any other thing except for the fact that Vincent's knuckles were white and Cloud's teeth were clenched tight and Zack was leaning ever-so-slightly forward. There was a power struggle of impossible strength in progress right in front of him, between crushing fury and stoic calm, and Rufus looked up at Zack Fair and saw wide eyes and dilated pupils and bared teeth, and Rufus Shinra smiled.

A second later he found himself smiling at a pink jean jacket and a long brown braid slapped him in the face by what he wasn't entirely sure was accident.

"Oh, my, Doctor Fair, you're burning up!" Aerith cried as she pressed her hand to Zack's forehead, and a smile quirked involuntarily on his lips as he recognized her overdone 'nurse' tone, all sweetness and innocence and a very slight tinge of matronly bitchiness. "No wonder you're about to fall over! Mr. Strife, Mr. Valentine, thank you for noticing and catching him in time. Would you carry him to his bed, please? I'll come and bring him something to drink. With a bit of rest he'll be fine, I'm sure."

There was a moment of stunned silence as the two men stared at Aerith and Zack blinked a few times in adrenalin-hazed confusion. Aerith's head tilted, her voice went sticky-sweet and innocent as she chimed, "Please?"

From behind her, Shinra couldn't see her quiet wink.

Fortunately, Vincent and Cloud were stoic enough to maintain their faces, not even allowing an eye to widen. Zack was still a bit confused, having dropped far too abruptly from his rage, now slightly dazed, but pretty sure he didn't actually have a fever. But he still had the sense to groan melodramatically and flop backwards into the other two's grip. Cloud and Vincent caught him carefully and Cloud even gave Aerith a quiet "Yes, ma'am," as they dragged Zack out of the room.

Aerith waited, hands on her hips, until the two men were gone before quirking a mischievous smile at Tifa, who was staring dumbly at the older woman. Then she whirled—and Shinra had to lean back swiftly to avoid taking a braid to the face again—and smiled sweetly at Rufus.

"I'm terribly sorry, President Shinra. It's very unusual for Dr. Fair to get sick, so I must not have recognized the symptoms this morning. But the doctor has a very strong temperament, I'm sure he'll be up and about by this evening. In the meantime, you may make yourself at home in the Fair Help Center."

Shinra's face, of course, betrayed no emotion until he lifted a single eyebrow and asked, "You allow your patients to care for the doctor?"

Aerith blushed prettily and raised a delicate hand to her mouth. "But—I'm simply not strong enough to carry him myself…and those two patients are very stable, pending release, even. Besides, in a hospital this small, the doctor and his patients form very close bonds. Those two men wouldn't hurt Dr. Fair, I don't think."

There was silence for a moment. Aerith carefully held the innocent smile, Shinra keeping his expression as unnervingly unreadable as ever.

Tifa sat patiently and held her breath. Aerith was blatantly faking; she knew it, and Rufus knew it, too. The only question was whether he would call her on it.

After a poignant pause, Shinra allowed one side of his mouth to curve in a genuine smirk. "You wear it, too?"

Aerith's head tilted further and her eyes widened endearingly as she sweetly asked, "Wear what, sir?"

…XxX…

Together, Cloud and Vincent slammed Zack against a wall just a few hallways away from the group room. The man had subsided from 'steaming rage' to 'moderately pissed off,' but now Cloud was the one annoyed, so he hit Zack on the side of the head lightly and grumbled, "Pull it together, Zack. You can't just off and beat the president to death."

Zack, instead of seething pointlessly, opted to pout, putting on his best puppy-face. "I wasn't going to beat him to _death_. Just very, very close to the border of life."

Vincent rested a hand on the soldier's shoulder and calmly rumbled, "Fair, you could kill that man with your bare hands easily, but the fact remains that he wants something from you. Until we know what it is, it's best not to give him anything, whether it be your time, your temper, or information about this place."

Sighing and scratching at the back of his head, Zack muttered, "Look, I think the guy's a total scumbag, and we've never gotten along, so I kind of suspect he might just be here to make me sweat—"

"No. He's definitely looking for something."

Aerith suddenly appeared around the corner, her voice having preceded her. Green eyes were alight with excitement, her face flushed with thrill, but her hand was raised to her brow, forehead knotted with tension. "I can feel it, " she muttered hastily, before any of the men could fully word a question. "It's hard to tell—it's vague with him, just like with you, Zack—but he's here for a reason, and it's not just to annoy you, Zack. He's got some purpose or other, I just can't find out _what_."

Then Zack had his arms around her and his hand pressed to her forehead and his cheek against her temple. "It's okay. It's okay, just leave it. That's enough. Don't strain yourself. Thank you, okay? Thank you for telling me." Aerith nodded soundlessly into his shoulder before fixing a sudden glare on Vincent and Cloud.

"_If_ you two wouldn't mind, I think you have two girls sitting in the group room who could use something to do. Namely, Tifa could use a patient to pretend to care for and Yuffie would most definitely like a new boyfriend to cuddle. So if you could just excuse Zack and I…?"

Cloud blushed ever-so-lightly and Vincent had the decency to look away as they shuffled out of the hall and off to find their girls. A few minutes later, Zack and Aerith emerged from the hallway with swollen lips and unsatisfied expressions, but the looks they gave each other were expectant.

_Later_.

…XxX…

It was The Mask.

You had to be careful that you wore it, and that it didn't wear you. The Mask was hard to put on and easy to take off, at first. The more you wore it, the easier it became to slip on, and the harder it became to remove. The Mask was just a thing, a tool, but The Mask was addictive, like a drug, comforting in the security and protection it offered, and all too quickly a man could find himself caught hopelessly, unable to remove The Mask.

But Rufus Shinra wore The Mask anyway, and he wore it _all the time_, but he wasn't afraid of losing himself to it, because he was Rufus Shinra, goddammit, and if he lost his mind to a figment of his imagination then he didn't deserve it anymore.

He'd recognized immediately when the girl—Aerith, wasn't it?—had slipped The Mask on, but hers was not so secure as his; still the Mask of an amateur, one built for reasons, real reasons other than its usefulness, and he wondered despite himself what this innocent girl had needed a Mask for, because when she looked at him, he would have sworn she could see through his disguise.

He thought perhaps she was looking into his very soul.

To Rufus, The Mask was a tool—and a damn useful one. He'd begun to learn how to use it around his father, and then it had been the guise of a dutiful son, bursting at the seams with familial loyalty and enthusiasm, and it was thanks to that Mask that he'd been able to wheedle his father into accepting him as Vice President.

With the power came a new Mask, a Mask of confidence. Rufus Shinra showed weakness before no enemy, and the Mask offered the perfect solution, the perfect disguise. All it took was a thought, a slip of imaginary leather over his imaginary face, and insecurities and vulnerabilities were gone, replaced behind a visage of cool, clinical confidence, an unshaking self-faith that left everyone around him unnerved.

Now he was President.

_He_ was _President_.

And he found the Mask needed to change again.

Now it became a blank wall. Completely impenetrable. It offered no image of confidence, or of distress; it gave no sign of happiness, or of sorrow. It was just a perfect, marble wall between him and the outside world, keeping him separate from all those who had their heart in their eyes and their emotions splashed all over their face. Inside The Mask, he was cool and calm, able to remain clinical and uncompromising, because The Mask kept him safe.

But somewhere underneath The Mask was a young man called Rufus Shinra, nearly as unemotional as he pretended to be, but he still felt, he just didn't let it show.

Only very few people were close enough to him to know the true man beneath The Mask.

"Reno," he called quietly, and watched with internal satisfaction and relief as excitement covered the younger man's face. "Rude," finished the summons, and the bald man turned and nodded and even quirked a smile, a hearty greeting from him.

"Sir!" Reno cried eagerly, running over with that absurd lope of his, and Shinra sniggered inwardly, carefully concealing his relief at seeing the men he had missed for so long.

His right hand came up and Reno clasped it eagerly, pounding him on the shoulder, grinning brilliantly. Rude came to calmly stand at his left shoulder, a familiar post, and for just a moment—the briefest moment—Rufus lifted The Mask and smiled at the men, an honest smile, and they grinned eagerly in response.

"Quietly, quietly," he murmured, pulling them aside. "I don't want Fair to hear us. First—where are Tseng and Elena?" He'd sent four of his special men, his special Turks, to the frontlines of battle—and he fully expected that four had come back alive. They were _his_ special forces, after all.

"In another ward," Rude responded quickly, not trusting Reno to keep his voice low. "The Director and Elena work with other old soldiers. Fair doesn't like to keep all four of us together. He thinks we might get into trouble."

Reno's grin looked like the smile of an overeager puppy when he turned to Rufus and pleased, "_Please_ tell me we're gonna get into some trouble, sir."

Beneath The Mask, Rufus grinned the feral grin of the hunting wolf.

"All four of you gather, and find me again as soon as you can," he ordered, voice low and tight, the voice that gave orders it expected to be obeyed in full. "Fair is a good man, but he's an idiot. His patients are cured and he won't know what to do with them. Fortunately for him, I do."

Reno and Rude exchanged a look.

"I'm going to tear this place down. Or, rather, I'm going to let someone else do it for me. And then, Fair will finally have free license to kill him. I get what I want, Fair gets what he wants, the people in this asylum get free. A fair deal all around, I daresay."

Rude and Reno exchanged grins filled with adrenalin and terror.

"All I need…are those keys."

…XxX…

Someone opened the door.

_I'll kill you…I'll kill you…Let me wake up for one second and I'll kill you, you bastards…_  
"As calm and composed as ever, I see, General."

_Bastard…I'll kill…I can smell Mother's blood in you, you bastard brother…Kill…_

"Gaia, you _do_ want to kill me, don't you, Sephiroth? I'm afraid I can't allow you to do that right now, but I think I can give you something even better."

_Kill…I'll kill you…_

There was the sick sliding feeling of something being pulled out of his vein.

He flexed his fingers experimentally. Already the sensation was coming back to his hands.

"I've removed the IV of sedatives, General. In five minutes or so, you ought to be wide awake and peachy-keen, I daresay."

He could feel his whole right hand.

_Kill…I'll kill you…Bastard brother…_

His hand reached up and raked down, and he came away with something soft and squishy under his nails and the smell of blood on his fingers.

Rufus Shinra raised a delicate hand to the skin just below his left eye. He came away with a blood-coated fingertips and the undeniable certainty that his vision was completely gone on that side.

Inside The Mask, Rufus clutched at his face and screamed and screamed and screamed in agony.

The Mask smiled, stood, and kicked Sephiroth viciously in the side.

"Three minutes, perhaps."

_I'll kill you…you damn brothers, stealing Mother's blood…Mother's love…I'll kill you…_

…XxX…

_A/N_

…_Rufus Shinra. Who gave HIM permission to barge into my story?_

_I must confess I don't know a whole lot about him, so his personality here is mostly based on what little I've seen and what I conjecture. Anyone here read any Discworld? I blended a good deal of Vetinari into Rufus. I hope I managed all right._

_It's a bit short on fluff, I confess, but PLOT. IT HAPPENS._

_Sephiroth is waking up, ladies and gents. Be afraid. Be very afraid._

_Review for more of creepy Sephiroth and random Mask analogies!_


	21. Cloudburst

**Review Responses:**

**Kurogane7**: He does have motives…I hope I explain them better in this chapter. Also, I read what you have posted of "Dying," and I really quite like it so far, even though I'm blubbering all over myself at the plot. The flashbacks are really sweet, though. It's quite good, I must say. **Nineveh03**: Ah, gotta love Shinra. Thanks, I had fun with everybody just suddenly like, "Gasp, oh noes, Dr. Fair!" And…Mother's blood is a bit different in this story…I'll explain someday…And yeah. "Cured" just kinda happened without me realizing. I was like, "…Wait, why are they still in here?" **ken08002**: Well, he has SOME objective in mind…It'd be nice if he, y' know, TOLD somebody first… **xTincampi**: Sorry, the fluff is back this chapter. Glad you liked the last one, though! **TenkaCat**: I love that scene in ACC. I always squeal, 'cause you really can't insult Kadaj worse than that, can you. "Bad son!" Makes for giggles. I'm glad you liked Aerith—I'm finally beginning to get a grip on her lately. **NamioftheSea**: …Yeah, you just about summed it up. Hah. Sh*t's about to go down… **Berenice63**: I know, I have problems with Tifa, I'm sorry…I've never written a girl like her before, so sometimes I kinda lose touch with Badass!Tifa…But I'm getting better, I hope. Please don't give up on me! **vLuna**: Well, he IS in the Help Center, and everybody here just seems to go nuts as soon as they walk in the door…but he has motives, I swear. **Vanilla Raindrops**: Aww, you don't suck, I love you! I know, the flashbacks were a blast, thank you. Yeah, Rufus is a bit…odd. I have no idea where that bit came from. Also, hooray for someone who appreciates my random lines! I love lines like those. Zack = much love, indeed.

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Twenty-One: Cloudburst

_(See, the whole concept of a disclaimer is just odd. If I owned it, wouldn't this be canon, and why would I be posting it on ? It's just illogical. But yeah. I don't own it.)_

_Three minutes left._

He can feel his hands and his feet to the ankles, and he thinks he can shift his arms even though he can't actually tell if it's working. His vision is blurry but returning, but he can't hear anything but the echo of his own breathing in his ears.

_Three minutes left._

Zack held Aerith tight against his chest and pressed his face into her soft bangs, inhaling the scent of her, as if to remind himself that he hasn't lost _everything_ he loved. Her fingers came up and clenched into the familiar fabric of his coat, as they'd done a hundred times, a thousand times, and the gesture was comfortingly real. The familiarity of it opened his throat enough that he was finally able to force out:

"It wasn't…for nothing…was it? All those people, everyone that fought, everyone that died…even _Angeal_…there's no way they all died for nothing. Right? It made a difference. The world will remember. Won't it?"

Aerith sighed into his shoulder and reached up to lightly slap the back of his head.

"You're being overdramatic, Zack Fair," she scolded teasingly, attempting to lighten the mood with her tone even as her words were solemn. "Would Angeal have cared if the world remembered his name? Would he want a statue of him raised in the middle of Midgar? He wouldn't and you know it. Not one of the men in that war died for nothing—they died to stop a man who wanted to kill _everyone_. Angeal didn't die for nothing, Zack. Angeal died for me, for Cloud, for Tifa and everyone who lives on this earth and breathes this air. Angeal died for _you_."

She stretched up onto her toes to plant a light, tender kiss on his scarred jaw before grinning shyly. "Even if the world never knows, Zack, you'll always remember. You're the proof that he existed. You're his living legacy."

Her last words were nearly drowned out by a sudden roll of thunder, violent and long and terrifyingly near.

Zack was still standing a bit awkwardly in the hall, so Aerith turned to find the nearest window to peek out of. "That's strange," she murmured quietly, staring up at the sky, suddenly thick with low, dark clouds. "It was clear this morning…"

"It's just a cloudburst," Zack declared confidently, coming to stand behind her, placing one hand on the sill on her other side, subtly bracketing her between his arms. "It'll be over in less than half an hour."

Aerith slowly turned her head, nose brushing his cheekbone, and found him smiling gently. A grin crept across her face before she could stop it, and Zack looked down at her and his smile widened in response.

"It's fleeting and short," he murmured as thunder crashed again and rain pounded viciously on the window. "But that doesn't mean we won't remember it."

The world outside the window flashed white as lightning struck.

"Fair."

Instinct had Zack stepping away from Aerith in a blink, and he whirled on a heel to find Shinra standing with Reno and Rude and a wad of bandages pressed to his left eye.

Impossible, unfounded horror filled him, and his eyes wandered inexorably downwards to find a ring of keys in Rufus's hand.

His mouth went dry.

"Rufus," he whispered in horror. "What did you do…?"

…

_Two minutes left._

He has sensation in his legs up to the knees and most of his arms. Aside from a bit of blurring, his vision is back as well, his hearing still coming in muffled but definitely functioning again, and his nose was slowly filling with the sweet stench of Mother's blood, smeared all throughout the hospital. Taking mental roll, he found them all; five with trace amounts, two with none at all, one that was _steeped_ in it—little brother—and three…

_Oh_.

Three more surviving experiments.

With still-numb facial muscles, he smiled coldly.

_Two minutes left._

"Come here, Yuffie."

It took no more encouragement than that for Yuffie to clamber up into the arms Vincent held out for her. His eyes went soft and gentle as he balanced her neatly on one hip, supporting her easily with only a single arm carefully tucked under her thighs and knees. She giggled giddily as he carried her from the room, waving enthusiastically to Cloud as they passed. "A girl could get used to this whole 'carried everywhere' thing, ya know."

Vincent grunted quietly in response, the equivalent of a hearty chuckle from anyone but him. "I'll simply have to ensure that I am always there to carry you, then," he muttered quietly, his tone utterly serious, not betraying a single hint of teasing. Yuffie blushed violent pink and threw her arms around his neck so she could bury her face in the red cloth on his shoulder. Pausing in his walk, he made a quietly inquisitive noise.

"I just realized the best thing about being carried all the time," she murmured into his shoulder.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she murmured pensively, straightening in his hold. "I'm finally at the right height to do _this_." Her hands clamped down on his jaw, twisting his head to the side and tilting his chin up just the slightest fraction until she was at the perfect angle to lean in and press her lips to his.

There was the subtlest of smirks on his mouth as he kissed her slowly, patiently, courting her mouth carefully as she clung to him for support. His tongue lightly touched the soft sweetness that was her upper lip, a careful question, and he waited patiently for her mouth to open for him before he deepened the kiss.

The world outside the Help Center flared brilliant white as lightning struck.

Inside the hospital, everything went black.

Within a breath, Vincent had wrenched himself away from Yuffie's too-distracting lips and readjusted his grip on her, holding her with both hands as he backed into a wall to orient himself.

"…Well, that was unexpected," Yuffie blurted awkwardly, and, in the darkness, a corner of Vincent's mouth quirked.

"Must be a storm," he rumbled, swiftly patting Yuffie down to make sure she was uninjured, even though he knew she was fine. "Lighting strikes the building, power outage. Happens all the time. I didn't see clouds this morning, so it's probably just a cloudburst. It won't last long. And generators should power up the building soon."

Yuffie hummed in his arms and snuggled her head into his shoulder contentedly. In the darkness, where she couldn't see, he smiled tenderly and rested his cheek against her hair.

In the darkness, she was small and soft and warm in his arms…

In the darkness, thunder rolled.

They both stiffened simultaneously.

Slowly, soundlessly, he lowered her to the ground. She went with him, bending her knees to catch her weight on the balls of her feet, and Vincent held out an arm to keep her behind him as he slid carefully, silently, into a crouch.

In stillness and silence, they waited.

A full two minutes later, ordinary ears, unenhanced by scientific torture and years of ninja training, could pick up the footsteps and hushed whispers in the hall.

"Brother said to bring it!"

"But Mother—"

"Big Brother wouldn't do anything without Mother's permission!"

"So why can't we—owwie, I cut my hand! Loz, you idiot, walk slower!"

"Shut _up_, both of you! Big Brother said bring it, and Big Brother knows Mother better than anybody, so it must be okay."

Yuffie's whisper was little more than a breath of sound in Vincent's ear, more felt in the air against his skin than heard in his oversensitive ears: "The brothers. What've they got? Can you see?"

He shook his head, knowing she would feel the motion from her proximity. He could sense the movement of her chest as she sighed in disappointment.

Lightning painted the world bright white, and Vincent stepped into the middle of the hall.

"What are you carrying, children?" He asked, voice low and cold and dangerous.

Thunder rolled.

Another flash of lighting cast electric white onto silver steel, and the ex-mercenary's eyes widened as the three silver-haired young men clenched bleeding hands around Sephiroth's sword.

"Yuffie," he growled out of the corner of his mouth, even as he locked stares with Kadaj, catching the green eyes with amber. "Find Cerberus. Bring it to me."

…

_One minute left._

Everything is fuzzy and a bit distant, his movements slightly uncoordinated, but move he does, to stand and balance and tug against the chains on his wrists.

The first tug affords nothing. He puts more force behind the second and the chains rip massive chunks of concrete out of the walls. Deprived of balance, he falls flat forward.

But he is smiling as he blearily struggles to his feet.

_One minute left_.

Cloud stared at Tifa.

Tifa stared back at Cloud.

_I'll never stop thinking I'm a monster_, his eyes whispered, endless sorrow, despair without a bottom or a limit.

_I'll never care even if you are_, her eyes told him in return, pure acceptance, a love that knew no bounds or end.

The silence in the room was heavily laden with thousands of words.

Outside the window, thunder rolled.

And the Help Center was plunged into the darkness.

For one moment, there is silence again.

Then, a thread of sound in the poignant stillness of the room, whispered, "…Cloud…?"

"Sorry," he rumbled quietly, reaching down to carefully take her hands in his own. "I forget sometimes. I can see better in the dark than you can." Pulling her carefully to her feet, he tugged her close, not quite embracing her, just standing near and basking in her warmth.

"Can you take me to the window, then?" She whispered, one hand dropping his to grope for his face in the dark.

He caught it and pressed her palm to his cheek gently. "Of course. Should I carry you, like Vincent did to Yuffie?"

"Cloud," she half-chuckled, half-chastised, pinching his cheek. "Leading me will be fine, thank you." He hummed in response and pulled her hand from his face. Keeping tight hold of her other fingers, he tugged her gently across the room, carefully steering her around chairs and rugs and pillows, until he curled her fingers around the windowsill and she could look up into the black sky.

"That's funny," she murmured, and only Cloud's eyes could catch the way the tiny, too-dim rays of light filtered through the rain on the window and cast shadows on her skin, dark blue ghosting over pale white like starlight across the ocean. "It was clear all day today."

"It's a cloudburst," he explained quietly. "It won't last long. Just one overburdened cloud dumping all of its weight at once."

And, without warning, those words filled her with terror.

_Just like that_, she wondered as the sky lit brilliant white with lightning. _Someday…just like that, will Cloud collapse under this weight…?_

_Will Cloud, too, fall apart?_

…XxX…

_It is time_.

He stood and straightened and glared at the open door.

His little brothers should have been here by now. They had heard him calling, he knew—and he knew they could have found what he asked for. It wouldn't be like Fair to destroy it…

Very slowly and carefully, he stretched each muscle in his body, one at a time, gently, thoroughly. He loosened easily, the familiar strength returning rapidly, even as the drugs still in his system fought his awareness down. It was just a bit of dullness on the edges of his senses, but it worried him slightly…

And his brothers were taking too much time.

He growled irritation, straightened his shoulders, and stalked furiously out the door.

_If you want a job done right_…He grumbled as he went in search of three rejected test subjects.

…XxX…

"What have I done, Fair?" Rufus asked, nothing more than a voice in the darkness. "I've set you free."

"_Rufus!_" Zack bellowed, his hand tightening on Aerith's as she clung to him in confusion and fear. "Give me a straight answer, _now_!"

Lightning screamed.

Rufus Shinra's bloody face was illuminated for a split second.

"I let Sephiroth loose."

Aerith's hands flew up to cover her mouth, and Zack ran a desperate hand through his hair and scratched at the back of his head viciously, running through all his nervous twitches, all his stress-relievers in one instant and finding them futile. In the next second, he was across the hallway, hands fisted in the perfectly pressed lapels of Rufus's white suit, hissing into the man's face even as the lightning faded and the shadow claimed them both:

"Do you have any idea of what you've done?"

Then there was cold steel pressed to the back of his neck. Zack's head turned pointlessly to find the source when Reno spoke from the darkness. "Don't make me hurt you, Fair. I like you well enough, but the President's the boss."

Gritting his teeth, Zack released Rufus and backed a few steps away, pacing a quick circle to try and burn off stress. Then he rounded on Shinra again.

"When?" He snarled desperately. "_Why_?"

Ice-cool in the shadow, Shinra spoke. "Approximately three minutes ago, I'd say. He ought to be able to stand and move by now, if my estimate is correct. As to why…

"Do you know, Fair, why I hated my father? It was the way he ran things. Money. He called it the great motivator. My father always believed that any man could be bought, with the right amount of cash. But I? I believe in power by strength. By _fear_. I believe we should be safe because others fear us, not because we're stuffing tax dollars into their pockets. Isn't strength better than bribery, Fair? Which would you choose?"

Zack gnashed his teeth wildly and breathed heavily, trying to calm himself. "Get to the point, Shinra, or I'll make sure your head rolls before this is over."

Lightning tore the earth to shreds.

Painted white, Shinra gripped Zack's forearm. Somewhere deep inside himself, he shoved up and out and pushed The Mask off his face and truly looked at Zack with honest eyes.

"I detest speeches, Fair, so let me be brief. You need me. I need you. Right now, Tseng and Elena are getting all the patients out of this hospital, save your little friends in this wing. I am the President. I hold power. But that power doesn't exist without strength and people behind it.

"Kill Sephiroth for me. It'll be public. It'll be dramatic. It will show the world that we in Midgar do not operate on bribery and fat men with fatter wallets. Men like _you_, men of honor and dignity, are the core of this country. Show the world that we are strong."

"I'm not a man of honor anymore," Zack growled into the darkness. "I sold my honor to your father."

A pale hand rose out of shadow to slap him across the face. This time it was those thin, bony hands that rose to clench in a white lab coat and shake violently as Shinra vented furiously into Zack's face.

"Don't fuck around with me, Fair! Who are you? Are you the man my father wanted you to be—_Doctor Fair_, a man who locks up good people and leaves murders alive for no reason beyond _personal monetary gain?_ Or are you Sergeant-Major Zack Fair, a man of honor, a soldier of the absolute first class? There is no time left for indecision. Don't think of your patients. Don't think of your mentor. Don't think of your girlfriend. Look at yourself! Now tell me—_who are you?_"

There was silence.

In the silence, thunder rolled.

Zack breathed in.

"You know what, Shinra?" He murmured, almost too low to be heard above the sounds of the storm. "_Screw that_."

The next sound was that of a lab coat hitting the wall and the thick rubber heels of boots clicking together. "Sergeant-Major Zack Fair, reporting in for duty, sir!" Zack chanted.

It felt _so good_ to stand at attention again.

Unseen, hidden by shadow, Rufus Shinra grinned like an idiot.

"Sergeant-Major, all the men and women within this wing are now under your exclusive command, by order of the President."

"And our orders, sir?"

In the darkness, the clouds burst forth in rain.

"Kill Sephiroth."

…XxX…

_A/N_

…_It's one-thirty in the morning._

_Also, I have a math quiz tomorrow. CRAP._

_In any case, finally got this posted. It's a bit late, as I said, so please forgive any errors—although I'd be much obliged if you pointed them out so I could fix them._

_I have to admit how much crazy fun I had writing Shinra's epic speech at the end there. For someone who claims to hate speeches, he delivers a damn good one._

_Also, EVERY battle scene is more epic in the rain. And I randomly fell in love with the word 'cloudburst' this week. Don't ask me why, but it set the theme for my whole dang chapter. Curse my life._

_Next week is finals for me, so I apologize if the next chapter is a bit slow in coming, but I'll try my best to get it out in a timely manner anyway. Thank you, much love, PLEASE REVIEW, it makes the muses happy and the chapters come faster!_


	22. To Arms

**Review Responses:**

**kitsune13**: Aww, Miss Tamlin, you're making me blush…you really are too nice. And I know, Rufus is dang weird, but when he wants to make a point he _makes a point_. And we _all_ can't wait for our Cloudy to finally get around to being our hero. Especially Tifa. A-hem. **AvengedRomantic**: Thanks, and it is good to know you're not the only one up at 1:30, isn't it? Yay for nocturnal people! Lucky, getting out of school so early…Thanks for the lovely review. **Kurogane7**: Your premonitions are eerily correct. We are indeed running quite low on options. **Nineveh03**: Hah, thanks, I can never keep control of how my writing turns out. And Vincent and Cloud will certainly get their time. I do love my Zack, but the fact remains that Cloud is the main character. And I do so love Shinra's speeches. A blast, man. **Calenlass Greenleaf1**: Thank you, it was a ton of fun to write. **shadowneko003**: It's going to be quite epic, I assure you. Thanks for reviewing! **Darkhorse666**: Darling, I must once again order you to be patient. But I love you anyway. **NamioftheSea**: Indeed, it seems he has. Or he did a long time ago. _Weird_ man, that one…The brothers are finally back onstage, what _are_ they doing… **7th fire**: I'm sorry, I'm a cliffhanger whore, I know. Here, story for the story monster. Feast, my friend. **vLuna**: Indeed, we await the Cloud-Sephiroth meeting with great…terror. Also, _oh_ the irony. **ReNeVIerE07**: Glad you're excited! I hope you like this chapter, too. **kerapal bubbles**: Your review had me giggling for ten minutes, just saying. And it seems Rufus has gone quite mad as well. What _is_ it about the Help Center that makes people go nuts? **Truth-Unspoken**: Well I really look forward to that end review, but this one certainly made my day, too! Zack's not abandoning anyone, though—I must have phrased something poorly if you thought that. He's taking command. He's going to lead us all to victory, woot! But your comments on Rufus just about sum up my view of him. DARN that man! **ken08002**: Indeed, so he has. The numbskull. **Camilla Hassett**: Aww, thank you, I'm flattered! I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much!

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Twenty-Two: To Arms

_(And once again I must write a disclaimer…I shall never understand…But yes. All rights to their respective owners, Tetsuya Nomura and them. Not me. I only wish…)_

It was pretty dang dark.

But if the dark bothered Great Ninjas, then they wouldn't be very Great, now would they?

So Yuffie wasn't panicking while she sprinted down the hall, not even when erratic bursts of lightning painted her vision white and then left her blinded as the blackness returned. Every member of the Kisaragi clan knew the way—how to move without your eyes to guide you, how to navigate with sound and scent and touch alone.

And it was hardly the most difficult thing to find her way down a hallway she'd walked hundreds of times, a hallway she had memorized by now. A hallway she had memorized so well that she could recognize the difference in the depth of the darkness where Zack was hidden.

Tackling him from behind, she blurted, "Zackie, I need help _now!_"

The soldier turned around to find the small ninja yanking on the back of his shirt desperately. "Yuffie? Where're the others? Vincent, Cloud, Tifa—have you seen them?"

She gasped for breath and tugged more insistently. "Vinnie's just down there—I haven't seen Cloud or Teef—but you've gotta come, you gotta help me, nownow_now!_ Kadaj an' them are running around with that bigass sword of Seph's and Vinnie's got 'em stopped for now but he says he needs Cerberus and I _know_ you've got it, Zack!"

A breath hissed in through Zack's teeth. "The brothers have the masamune…" He growled, trying to think quickly.

After a moment of agonized silence, Yuffie whimpered. "Zack. _Please_."

Punching his palm, Zack nodded conclusively. "Right. Reno, Rude, Yuffie, you're coming with me. If we're taking down the most dangerous man in the world, we need weapons. Aerith, Rufus—you both get the hell out. Shinra, get your Turks to guard you both. You may be the most sly, conniving bastard I know, but you're useless in a fight. And I can't have the President dying on my watch."

From within the darkness, there was a snort. "You underestimate me, Fair, but I suppose you know best. Rude. Reno. You are under his command until I say otherwise. Understood?"

"Sir."

"You got it, Boss."

Small hands found Zack's wrists, slim fingers slipping into his. "I'm not leaving, Zack."

Sighing, he reached out and folded her hands together, carefully disentangling his own. "Aerith, please. I can't be worrying about you while I fight. I need to be sure you're safe. Please…"

Very quietly, she whispered back, "But how do _I_ know that _you're_ safe…"

The corner of Zack's mouth twitched in what might have been smirk or grimace. He reached out to wrap a hand around the back of her head and kissed her forehead carefully. "Trust me."

She groped in the dark for his face, kissed his lips hurriedly, and turned and fled into the shadowed hall. Groaning, Zack tilted his head at Shinra. "Just follow her, 'kay? Make sure Elena keeps an eye on her."

"Naturally, Fair. Good luck."

Zack grimaced silently and mentally replied: _I'll need it…_

…

It was heavy.

It was _so damn heavy_.

He pulled on the harness, the familiar wide belt and shoulder straps and the same solid pressure of the magnet between his shoulder blades. Wrapping his hands around that beautifully engraved hilt, he pressed his forehead to the blade and, for a moment, simply breathed and listened.

_Embrace your dreams. If you want to be a hero, you need to have dreams…and honor._

"I'm sorry, Angeal," he whispered, breath momentarily condensing against the cold metal. "I won't let you down again."

"Yo, Fair, let's book it!"

Groaning quietly, he settled the immeasurable weight of the Buster Sword between his shoulders, making a soft noise of satisfaction as the harness distributed the pressure over his shoulders and waist. He stretched against the force, reveling in the lean power of his body, waking up all over again. "Kadaj's souba is gone," he called into the shadows where the other three lurked. "Yazoo's and Loz's weapons, too. What's more, they've got the masamune…we need to move. Yuffie?"

The young ninja jolted to attention from where she'd been experimentally twirling her shuriken. "Yeah?" A second later there was a block of metal flying at her face, which only her amazing ninja-reflexes could have caught (in the dark, too) before it broke her nose.

"Make sure you get that to Vincent, no matter what. He's probably the best unarmed fighter of us, but he'll be at his best with that." Turning, Zack strained to see through the pitch-black room. "Reno, is that you over there?"

"Who else would it be, Sarge?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe Sepiroth, about to ram a masamune up your ass. Look, just reach out to your left a bit. Feel anything? Leather, or metal?"

There was the brief sound of a human body, fumbling around in the dark. Then: "Both, Sarge, and metric shit-ton of it."

"Good. Grab it and bring it. Make sure you get all of it."

Metal clashed against metal, leather rubbed over flesh, Reno grunted a few times, cursed a few more, and finally snapped, "Wha' the hell _is_ all this, Sarge?"

In the darkness, Zack grinned.

"The Fusion Sword."

Turning on his heel, he marched out of the room and into the hall before he looked over his shoulder to give the others a smile they couldn't see.

"What, you didn't really think I'd leave Cloud out of the fun, did you?"

…XxX…

Almost the second Aerith was out the doors of the Help Center, there was a young blonde woman next to her, holding an umbrella over her head as the rain beat down. Elena smiled mildly at Aerith and patted her shoulder gently. "I'm supposed to stop you from going back inside, but you won't really try to run out on me, will you?"

"That won't be necessary, I think."

By the time Aerith turned to see Shinra emerging from the hospital, there was another umbrella in Elena's hand and over the President's head. Rufus smiled his rare, cold smile again as he took the handle from the blonde Turk. "Good to see you again, Elena."

The young woman nodded fervently, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. "Director Tseng is inside the trailer over there, sir. Shall I take you to him, or would you like your eye treated?"

Sighing, Shinra raised a pale hand to the bandages over his left eye. "I fear there's nothing more that can be done for it, so kindly escort Miss Gainsborough and I to somewhere with a bit less rain, would you?"

Nodding silently, she tugged Aerith into the nearby vehicle, lit by two roaring generators that sat behind it. Rufus threw the door open without ceremony, his manner and voice never indicating that he was seeing the man within for the first time in three years. "Tseng. Status report?"

The dark-haired Turk sat before a wide panel of computers, fingers working furiously, occasionally muttering into the headset he wore. Without moving, he responded immediately, "All patients excepting those in Sephiroth's wing have been evacuated and are en route to alternate institutions. All staff—again excluding those within the one wing—have also been removed and have been offered transport home. Turks Reno and Rude are still within the center, under the command of Sergeant-Major Zack Fair. Turks Elena and Tseng, awaiting your command." Turning, the tall man nodded once to Shinra, his expression stone, his bearing businesslike.

A hint of a smile flickered on Shinra's mouth.

"Excellent. Now. The surveillance cameras within the building run on battery power, so they should still be working. Better yet, they transmit wirelessly. Pick up the signal and stream it into this trailer," he ordered, unquestioning, absolute certainty in his tone. Tseng nodded, whirled his chair around to once more face the computer screen, and keys began to click almost immediately.

Whirling on his heel, Shinra gave Aerith a pleasant smile. "Do you play cards, Miss Gainsborough?"

Aerith sat primly on the fold-up chair that Elena offered and replied, "I don't gamble."

"Ah, but that's a different thing entirely." Rufus gripped Elena's forearm reassuringly as she handed him a chair, making the youngest Turk grin brilliantly. "See, I invented something of a card game myself, but Tseng will never play with me. Will you, Tseng?"

The Director grunted without turning around or pausing in his frenzied typing. "Could never quite grasp the rules, Sir."

Shinra leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "He just doesn't like to lose." Grinning at Aerith as he pulled back, he reached into his suit and proffered a deck of cards. "Come. Play with me. It'll take your mind off things."

Aerith eyed him carefully for a moment. Concentrating, she probed the air around him, trying in vain to decipher the emotions he hid behind his white-marble mask. But her efforts afforded her nothing more than a headache, so she sighed, leaned back in the chair and challenged, "You'll have to teach me to play."

Once more, Rufus smiled his stone-cold, emotionless smile.

"Naturally, Miss Gainsborough. Naturally."

…XxX…

"Kadaj, I would ask you to put that down and go back to your room until the power outage is over."

Vincent's voice was cold and low, betraying no hint of nervousness or tension as he slowly stepped closer to Kadaj. The silver-haired man twitched nervously, hands fluttering on the blade of the masamune, flickering towards the souba slung around his waist. Through the darkness, Vincent kept hawkish eyes trained on the motion of Kadaj's fingers, well aware that his opponent could see through the night just as easily as he.

As Vincent slowly slid another foot forward, Kadaj flickered, wavered, and finally broke. "That's far enough!" He shrieked, bleeding hands dropping the masamune and flying, faster than an ordinary human could track, to the hilt of the souba. In another half-second it was drawn and slashing upwards towards Vincent's throat.

The eyes of the mercenary saw everything.

He leaned back exactly four centimeters.

The twin blades of the souba passed within three millimeters of his neck, slicing open the blanket as they passed.

Then Kadaj was slung off-balance by the unexpected lack of contact, staggering sideways with the momentum of his strike, and Vincent whirled low and struck the youth's feet from underneath him, sending Kadaj to the ground.

"Hey, Vince, don't have all the fun before we get here."

Straightening—in the back of his mind, carefully monitoring the cries of "Brother!" for intent to attack—Vincent turned to face Zack. "I assure you, Fair, I have had no fun here."

Yuffie sprinted around the sergeant to fling herself at Vincent, who caught her obligingly—making sure not to step back and risk angering the brothers. Grunting quietly, he looked down to see why something heavy and metal had hit him instead of something soft and female.

Cerberus fit snugly into his hand, part of him, once again an extension of his arm.

Then Yuffie's hands were at the pins on his neck, and the red blanket was falling to the ground, and he almost cried out at the sudden uncomfortable nakedness, but then there was silk sliding over his cheeks and the quiet snap of black buckles closing against his neck, and Yuffie nervously smoothed out the front of his cape.

"It's kinda torn up and it really sorta smells like moths, but at least you're not wearing a blanket anymore, right?" She muttered, fiddling with the loose threads that came away under her fingers.

For a moment Vincent stood in astonished silence.

Then Yuffie's increasing nervousness at his lack of response finally came through, and his hands rose through the darkness to touch her soft cheeks, and he leaned in to faintly whisper, "Will you be angry if I kiss you in front of these others?"

She stared at him blankly for a moment before muffling a giggle and murmuring back. "It's dark, isn't it?"

Then his arms were around her and her feet were off the ground and his lips were against hers and Cerberus was poking her in the back and her she dropped her shuriken so she could pull her fingers through his hair and it was perfection in his arms, in that moment.

"Look, even if I can't _see_ you I know what kissing _sounds_ like, so quit making out, we've got a crazy general to kill."

Vincent snorted quiet amusement and lowered Yuffie to the ground, where she fumbled for her shuriken to cover her embarrassment. Behind him, Kadaj had shifted to staring at Zack, who was grinning with a cheer that didn't quite hide his tension.

"Vincent, Yuffie, go ahead of us. For Shiva's icy sake, find Cloud before Sephiroth does. Reno, give Yuffie the Fusion Sword." There was movement in the darkness, and then Yuffie found herself with arms full of metal and leather and far too many poky things than was entirely healthy. "Reno, Rude and I will take care of these three. You just get to Cloud, got it?"

Vincent's only response was a businesslike grunt, thunderous in the silence of the hallway. Yuffie looked up at him, her Kisaragi-trained eyes peering through the darkness.

Above her head, Vincent's eyes were burning amber in the black. A fiery thrill rocketed up Yuffie's spine as she recognized his expression, the look of the mercenary, quiet and lethal. His fever had returned, the fire that lit him from within burned again, and Yuffie couldn't resist stepping subtly closer to feel all that terrible body heat rolling off of him.

Then his head whipped around and those fire-spark eyes were pinned on _her_ and Vincent grinned and she noticed for the first time just how sharp his teeth were.

"Shall we?"

Then they were gone, two children of the darkness, moving through the shadowy hallways like whispers of black in the silence.

Zack sighed, rolled his shoulders, and eased the Buster Sword off his back.

With a once-lost familiarity, his feet spread and planted, his fingers curled around the thin hilt and everything about the stance and the tension was old and comfortable and he felt like an arrogant young soldier all over again. "Now, are you three going to stand down, or are we going to have to do this the hard way?"

Through the darkness, the resulting silence was response in itself.

Because the shadows couldn't hide sound.

First, there was a quiet series of clicks and whirs as the Dual Hound's handle snapped free.

Leather creaked and squealed against tile as Rude's fists tightened and the heel of his boot ground against the floor.

Another soft, metallic _click_ betrayed the cocking of the Velvet Nightmare.

Faint electricity crackled in the air as Reno's hand clenched around his electro-mag rod.

Kadaj clambered noisily to his feet, the blade of the souba scraping tellingly against tile.

The soft sound of wind filled the hall as Zack experimentally swung the Buster Sword, once, twice, three times, cutting the air itself. His tone betraying the predatory grin he wore, Zack spoke.

"Let's dance, boys."

…XxX…

"I've picked up the signal, sir. Beginning streaming now."

Rufus turned to pat Tseng's shoulder companionably. "Excellent work, Director. Miss Gainsborough, are you ready to play?"

Aerith peered at Shinra over her handful of cards. "I'm afraid I still don't understand the rules."

Sighing dramatically, Rufus raised a hand to his forehead as if to say, 'Ah, me!' "It's quite simple, Miss Gainsborough. Just lay down the best cards from your hand. A pair, a full house, even a 21, as if we were playing blackjack…anything at all is fine." Briefly glancing at his cards, he selected three and carefully placed them face-down on the table. Immediately his eyes flicked back to Aerith, waiting patiently for her move.

She massaged her forehead tensely before throwing down three cards of her own. Shinra whistled appreciatively.

"Three eights, Miss Gainsborough. A powerful opening play. Shall we see how mine compares?" Pale fingers flipped his cards one by one, revealing two nines and a jack.

"But that's nothing," Aerith blurted. "Just one pair and a random jack."

Rufus smiled.

"Tseng, find the feed from the hallway. And make sure it's the infrared video, it's positively pitch in there." Once again Tseng's fingers clattered against the keyboard. Scarcely ten seconds later, his computer screen turned black, and six fuzzy red figures slowly formed.

The ice-cold smile widened into a toothy, pleased grin.

"Let us see how the first round plays out."

…XxX…

_A/N_

_Bah, what a chapter. I did warn you it would be late…_

_I'm sorry anyway. I have one more final, but after that, summer, woot! (Updates may pick up when school is out, but I make no promises.)_

_Thank goodness for the FF wiki and its lovely descriptive articles on everybody's weapons. What would I have done without it?_

_Rufus still freaks me out. I have no control over that man. I mean, I have no control over ANY of my various overemotional muses, but Rufus just sits in the corner of my head, smiling creepily and DOING WHATEVER HE WANTS. He's so scary!_

_And yes, we are working up to something quite big here. Be afraid, ladies and gents. BE. VERY. AFRAID._

_Hope you enjoy the chapter, and do please review, my loves._


	23. If It Was You

**Review Responses:**

**AvengedRomantic**: Yeah, disturbing lack of Cloudy last chapter. He's back now, though. Also, I love that phrase. LOVE IT. And Shinra IS awesome. Even if he doesn't really seem to get card games. Awesome review! **Kurogane7**: It's quite a poignant game, isn't it? Actually, Rufus is batting for our team, here. Aerith's really just there to hold the cards for the other side. And Vincent…well, we'll see. **NamioftheSea**: What is Rufus EVER planning. Heck, I don't even know… **ken08002**: Nothing good comes of ANYTHING Rufus does. And yeah, Cloud's back. I dunno where he was all that time… **Chibi Emo-Chan**: Hah, sorry. I love cliffhangers. I'm evil, I know. **kerapal bubbles**: HAH. Your reviews always make me laugh, dear lovely friend. Also, Cloudy's going to get his sword, indeed he is. **City of Dis**: Hah, he probably could. He is Vinnie, after all. And yeah, "manipulative bastard" just about sums up Shinra. Also, Tifa is indeed an ass-kicking wonder. Woohoo! **vLuna**: Sorry, last chapter was shameless filler. Forgive me? I have ass kicking for you! **7th fire**: Ooh, chills, really? Also, Vincent scared the crap out of me first time I watched AC, so I try to convey the terror. Glad you liked it!** Iskra revoir**: Joy and glee, you're back! Also, I'm terrifically flattered, thank you for favoriting me! Bah, I'm blushing… **Darkhorse666**: Indeed, for fighting in the dark is ALWAYS more fun. And yay for not-so-subtle macking. And Shinra has no girlfriend. Elena is for Tseng, darling. I'm sorry, Cloudy is back, Cloudy is back! Hey, Zack is the smex, too. But here, have your Cloudy.

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Twenty-Three: If It Was You

_(As of today, I own a gold coin and a very poor quality katana, but nothing resembling our lovely Golden Chocobo-head or his lovely amazing sword, or anything remotely related to either of them.)_

They moved the same way.

Even if he was stoic and silent and she was blinding emotion and laughter, this was the same. Even if he was old and bitter and she was young and idealistic, this was the same. Even if there was never anything else they shared, never one thing they had in common, this was the same.

They moved like silence whispered into midnight.

She was ahead of him—she was beside him—she was underneath his feet, clinging to the wall above his head, behind him, peering through a hole in his cloak playfully, and he would have chided her for being so childish when there was so much at stake, except it was sweet and innocent and endearing and he couldn't bring himself to deny her that.

Adrenaline swirled with green poison inside his skull and the old, familiar fever was casting stark fire over his senses, and even in the last five minutes, he could tell that his vision had sharpened and adjusted to the darkness, that his hearing had improved and become clearer, that even his sense of smell was more prevalent, loading his brain with extra sensory input. The pointless sound of the rain beating against the windows, the blinding flashes as lightning hit and threw everything into ivory clarity for a split second, the far-too-distracting smell of Yuffie every time she stepped close, sticky-sweet like overripe fruits and crushed rose petals…

He slipped through the darkness, his fingers stretched out into night, and pale hands met cool glass and metal panes and he threw the door to the group room open.

"Strife!"

Squinting into the shadows, he caught the black figure of Cloud, turning away from the light grey of the window. "Vincent? Yuffie? What's going on?" Next to the black silhouette, a second moved—Tifa. Her hand rose up to touch Cloud's arm, reassuring and seeking reassurance simultaneously.

Breathing elevated by thrill and anticipation and the run down the hall, Vincent explained curtly. "Shinra let Sephiroth out. Everyone's evacuated. Fair's in charge. We're killing the general."

Shadows went still and silent and the only sound there was in the world was Cloud hissing a slow breath in through his teeth, and then it came rushing out again, more a snarl than a word, more a growl than a name;

"_Sephiroth…_"

"And and and," Yuffie burst in brightly, twirling into the room. "I've got your sword, Spike—and why on _earth_ do you need so dang _much_ sword, I mean that thing's got to be bigger than I am and why do you have, like, _six_ swords instead of one or even two like normal people? You got four extra arms I haven't noticed, Cloudy?"

Then the black figure of Cloud was across the room in an instant and he lifted the bundle of leather and metal out of her hands with just a curt, "Thank you, Yuffie."

His breath blew out in a rush as he stretched leather over cloth and felt the harness falling over his shoulders, blindingly heavy with the weight of six swords.

_Right hip…It's always on the right hip…_

His right arm bent around and metal dragged over leather as it had done a hundred, a thousand times before, and then the chillingly eerie sound of air screaming filled the room as Cloud whirled the First Tsurugi easily, familiarly. Vincent squinted in the sudden brilliance as lightning illuminated Cloud's face for just a moment, and the ex-mercenary saw on the blonde man's face the expression he had worn only a minute ago—re-acquaintance and almost-forgotten familiarity, the sudden re-remembering of something that had been a part of you for impossible amounts of time.

Cloud's upper lip pulled back in a smile that was really a snarl, and Tifa only had enough time to gently whisper: "Cloud—" before he spoke over her.

"Vincent," he began, and his tone was unlike anything Tifa had heard out of him before, confident and sure and far beyond deadly. "Where is Sephiroth?"

Snorting in the darkness, the older man retorted: "I believe that was for you to find out."

The next word was a growl. "_Excellent._" And Tifa didn't even have time to open her mouth before he was speaking again—"Vincent, I need you to stay here and protect Tifa and Yuffie. They can't fight him. Promise me you won't let them leave this room until I come back."

Then Tifa's fist smacked deep into his stomach and Cloud had to bend over a little in pain as she grabbed a thick handful of his hair and yelled right into his ear, "You are _not_ leaving me behind, Cloud Strife!"

He reached for her face and curled his fingers around her cheeks and looked into the dilated eyes that so desperately sought his in a blackness she couldn't penetrate, and he desperately wanted to bring her along with him but he _couldn't_.

"Stay, Tifa. Stay here. For me?" He begged quietly, and barely kept his voice from cracking on the last two words.

"_No_," she growled in the darkness, and Cloud had to let her go and back two steps away and turn to Vincent.

"What would you do if it was Yuffie?" He murmured quietly.

The mercenary stared deep into his eyes for a moment.

"You have my word."

Cloud whirled on his heel before he could second-guess his decision and ran from the room, slamming bulletproof glass behind him, blocking out the sound of Tifa screaming his name in fury.

_Don't want her to see me fighting._

_Don't want her to see me with blood on my hands._

_Don't want her to see me dying…_

…XxX…

"Vincent."

"I gave my word, Lockhart."

"Vincent!"

"You will not leave my presence until Strife comes for you."

Hands groping wildly in the dark, Tifa found the front of Vincent's cloak and shook him violently. Vincent, being Vincent, hardly moved as she jerked on the cloth in vain.

"You don't _understand!_" She yelled into the darkness that hid his face. "He's gone to kill Sephiroth, but he won't win! Not when he's like this…not when he's not…_whole_. There's still cracks and holes in his head and you know that Sephiroth can get into those cracks and Cloud will just—break. He'll die. If he fights Sephiroth now, he'll die! And I'll never be able to live knowing I could have done something about it and let you stop me."

Vincent's long fingers curled around Tifa's upper arm and tightened, and she sucked in a quiet breath through her teeth. "And what can you do, Tifa Lockhart? Small, weak, fragile…what can you do to protect Strife from a man like Sephiroth?"

Tifa punched him in the nose.

As Vincent curled over his face, gently prodding for damage, Tifa declared: "Don't you underestimate me, Vincent Valentine! Maybe I'm not some genetically engineered super-soldier, but I learned how to fight from Barret Wallace, and I can take care of myself!"

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Yuffie slapped Tifa on the back and began laughing hysterically, and it was a minute more before the younger girl could summon the composure to speak. "Go, Ti-_hic_-fa," she ordered soothingly, her gentle tone ruined by the hiccup that punctuated Tifa's name. Through the darkness, Tifa gave her a quietly questioning look, and Yuffie grinned blindingly in response, her white teeth gleaming even in the shadowed room "Like Spike said to Vinnie, 'what if it was Yuffie?' So I'm thinking, _what if it was Vincent_. What would I do?" A small hand clenched reassuringly on Tifa's shoulder. "I'd go, too."

Finally satisfied that his nose was unbroken, Vincent straightened. "Yuffie…"

Wrapping her arms around the small ninja, Tifa _tsk_ed disapprovingly. "Vincent? I could have hit harder. Now shut up before I hit you where it really hurts." Against her shoulder, Yuffie snorted once, and Vincent raised his hands in defeat before stepping away.

Tifa gave Yuffie one more quick squeeze before releasing the smaller woman. Through the dark, Vincent nodded once, knowing she couldn't see. Reaching for him blindly, Tifa finally caught hold of the front of his cloak again, tugging more gently this time. "Even if he said, 'what if it was Yuffie…' I mean, it's not like that with Cloud. It's not the same for us. So…it'll be all right. No matter how this turns out. It'll be okay."

When she turned to leave, a pale hand caught hold of her wrist. Amber eyes burned through the darkness.

"Lockhart."

Tifa hummed, questioning.

"…Don't die."

…XxX…

The world became very small while he was fighting.

Adrenaline shaved all the excess off his mind and drove him to a single, pure focal point.

What he could hear of Kadaj. The souba ripping through the air—the youth's heavy gasping—the squeal of boots against tile. To his left, left-back, back-left—a strike from behind. Lean right. Duck in case of sideswipe. Cut up and across.

A howl as the Buster Sword met flesh and there was a falter in Kadaj's cobra-quick steps when it faded.

What he could see of Kadaj. The occasional lightning bolt blessed him with a single glimpse as it struck—and Kadaj was painted in white in the hallway, hand raised up and eyes wild and the souba midway through a downward strike. Buster Sword up. Brace. Steel met steel and Zack gritted his teeth against the wild, inhuman strength of the experiment as he tilted the sword to send the slash sliding askew and Kadaj off-balance.

Zack Fair was _good_ at fighting in the dark.

He picked up the rhythm in Kadaj's footsteps and followed it, circling with the younger man, and slim souba clattered against the massive Buster Sword as he caught another blow just in time.

To his right, the petulant sigh of an exasperated child.

To his right-front, the squeak of leather moving over tile. _Thump_. A stuttering footfall. He must have hit Kadaj's leg in one of his attacks.

To his front, lightning flared and revealed Kadaj directly in front of him, sword raised to neck height and swinging in from the side.

_Sword up!_

The souba crashed against the wall of steel that was the Buster Sword. Zack slid a few inches to the side with leftover momentum. His arms trembled where they braced against Kadaj's blow. Damn, the kid was strong…

_Hold…Hold it…_

And he dug his feet in and tightened his shoulders and the souba screeched to a stop against Zack's sword.

_Recoil…_

Kadaj's arm bounced back a few inches as the sudden impact caught him by surprise.

_And break._

The tip of the Buster Sword tilted and fell, trapping the hilt of the souba—and Kadaj's hand—between itself and the ground, twisting Kadaj askew and off-balance. Zack dropped the hilt of his sword, his left foot planted, his right rose, and his kick caught neatly with the bone of Kadaj's arm, and there was a clean, clear _snap_ before the silver-haired man began to howl.

"Oh, shut up, you _wuss_!" Zack yelled, leaning with his kick to catch the Buster Sword's hilt in both hands, right foot coming down, whirling around, sword held perfect and horizontal to finish it, to end it forever right there and then—

_Use brings about wear, tear…and rust. And that's a real waste._

An irritated _tch_ slipped involuntarily through his teeth as his hands twisted on the hilt and his arms dropped slightly and Kadaj's upper arm met the back of the sword rather than his neck meeting the blade. Another distinct _snap_ betrayed Kadaj's other arm breaking, and the young man screamed again, screamed madly and without words, and Zack had to grit his teeth against the too-familiar, too-tragic sound.

The Buster Sword slipped from his fingers again and his hands clasped together and rose above his head as he stepped swiftly to Kadaj's side.

A bolt of lightning granted him a look at that pale face, with still-round cheeks and childish long hair and Zack growled through his teeth because someone who'd just tried to kill him wasn't innocent, wasn't a child, was _not_…

His clenched fists came down hard on the back of Kadaj's head, and the pale youth managed nothing more than a soft whimper of "Mother…" before he hit the floor, out cold.

Breathing hard, Zack stood still for a moment to let the adrenalin leach from his mind, allowing his senses to spread again. He found the hallway dark and quiet, the shadows silent and unmoving.

Sucking in a few more scalding breaths, Zack swallowed against a dry throat and panted, "Reno! Rude! Status?"

Stillness was his only answer. The sound of his breathing filled the hall, the rushing of air in and out of his lungs the only movement to be found—

Then—

A quiet chuckle.

And cold steel pressed to the back of his neck.

…XxX…

Rufus Shinra sighed and pushed his two nines to the side of the table. "It would appear that I lose this round, Miss Gainsborough," he murmured, leaning forward on his elbows as Aerith peered at the blurry figures on the screen in horror.

"But—who—_Zack_!" She rambled, hand going to her forehead as she clenched her teeth against agony and bent double, hands wrapped around her head, mumbling incoherently. When she straightened again, her jaw was clenched, her hands fisted in her hair, and she stumbled towards the trailer's door, murmuring: "Zack—_Zack_—I have to help him…I have to—"

Before she'd moved two feet Elena was between her and the exit, a pleasant smile on her face and her hands raised in an invitation for a hug that could turn into a fighting stance in less than a second. "C'mon, Aerith, didn't you promise not to run out on me?" The blonde's tone hovered delicately between chiding and threatening.

"Miss Gainsborough, _please_, we are in the middle of a game!" Shinra sighed, sounding terribly affronted.

Aerith whirled on him, her green eyes alight with desperation. "Are you insane? These are people's _lives_! This is not a game!"

For a moment, pale brows knitted over Shinra's sole remaining eye as he glared at her. He raked her with his gaze, contemplating, evaluating. "You don't understand. _Everything_ is just a game." Sighing, he sat back and pulled a hand through his hair. "And if you had paid attention to the rules of this particular game, you would recall that the loser of each round is allowed to draw one more card. A saving throw, if you will, to see if the outcome can be reversed."

Rufus delicately lifted a card off the top of the deck and smiled a white marble smile at Aerith.

…XxX…

_A/N_

_I feel as if I say it more and more often, but…don't hate me…_

_And yeah, I know Tifa was taught to fight by that Zangan dude, but I don't know a thing about him and I can't figure how that would work into the timeline, so we'll just go with Barret teaching her. La-di-da._

_And, randomly, I wanted to write Cloud's epic exit scene as: "And he dashed from the room, screaming: "I'M GONNA KILL THAT SONOFA BIIIIIIIIIITCH…" But then decided that wasn't really very in character, was it._

_I think this update may actually be a day early. Hurray for summer break, beyotch._

_PLEASE review, my darlings? I love reviews more than candy and delicious summertime smoothies._


	24. The Beast Inside

**Review Responses:**

**shadowneko003**: A creepy game. That kind of game. And go Tifa indeed. **Kurogane7**: Hah, I'm sorry! Don't die of hunger, please! Here, I have chapter for you! **kerapal bubbles**: Hah, yeah, you've got a point there. Glad you liked the fight scene; I worked really hard trying to make it good. I don't much like Kadaj, myself, but whatever floats your boat… **Chibi Emo-Chan**: Here, I have more! I know, I hate waiting, too. **kitsune13**: Yeah…but it would have been so funny…and I'm glad you appreciate my view of Cloud-fighting. He can be an overemotional drama king and angsty dork, but when Cloud decides he's gonna do something, it gets DONE. He's like that, in my head. And I'm glad you like my Rufus—he makes me nervous every time he shows up, I always worry if I'm getting him right. **Vanilla Raindrops**: Your challenge is accepted, my friend. IT'S ON INDEED. They really have automatically set to autopilot, they've just immediately snapped into "Okay, let's get this DONE" mode. Love it. And yes. Rufus is a creeper. **Valentine'sNinja**: I'm so glad you like it! I do love writing the VincentYuffie, and I have to admit I don't much care for the ZackAerith—but that's just 'cause I don't like Aerith. Bah. In any case, thanks for reading, and doubly thanks for reviewing! **City of Dis**: Exactly! Out of character…but hilarious. Glad you liked the chapter! **Chocobo Confectionary**: Hate to admit it, but I don't know a thing about Cissnei, so she's probably never actually gonna appear here… **vLuna**: Yeah, I'm sick of Kadaj. Ugh. But Rufus is actually playing for the good guys in the card game. Just so you know. **ken08002**: Glad you liked the battle; it was a beyotch to write. Cloudy gets his fight scene this time, no fear. **NamioftheSea**: Go Tifa indeed. And they can't actually, that's just an unfortunate byproduct of me messing up by writing third-person. Sorry… **Darkhorse666**: Indeed, teh Cloudy returns! Hah, sexist indeed. And the opponents are alive. And about to shoot him. Also, long reviews = the bomb. Much love, darling. **riceball793**: Yay, another smoothie-person! Glad you liked the chapter! **Nineveh03**: Yes, the great sword is back. Woohoo! As for why the guys let themselves get beat up—it sounds terrible to say it, but the guys are stronger than the girls to an extent that they know getting hit won't actually HURT them, so they just let themselves get beat on so the girl can blow off steam. Vincent underestimated Tifa a bit. He didn't think she'd hit so hard. Glad you like my Rufus! **7th fire**: "Cold, sadistic, and slightly out of touch with reality." It's perfect! **Leah Conner**: AGAIN you appear with your amazing reviews and your amazingness! I'm glad you like my psychotic people—it's not weird, trust me, I love crazy people, too. I'm sorry I made you cry, and I really hope your friend is okay. And I'm glad you like my mask thing—I was afraid I went a bit overboard with it. Thanks so much for the FANTASTIC reviews!

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Beast Inside

_(Hm. I can't think of a clever disclaimer today, so we'll just go ahead and say I don't own it, all rights to respective owners and whatnot, la-di-da.)_

Shinra laid his card on the table.

"An ace," he declared quietly, voice devoid of all emotion.

Aerith's brow knitted as she stared at the small slip of paper.

"Ace high or low?"

…XxX…

A bead of sweat condensed on the base of Zack's skull, slowly creeping down his neck to kiss the cold steel of the Velvet Nightmare.

Through the darkness, he heard Loz chuckle quietly.

Yazoo cocked his gun with a click that was as loud as the thunder, as loud as death.

And white-hot static flooded the inside of Zack's head. Blatantly panicking, his thoughts cycled around in a blindingly fast circle of _shit, shit, don't want to die, oh Gaia, Aerith, Angeal, I'm sorry, don't want to die, dammit, Aerith…_

His breathing sounded like screaming, his heart pounded at the inside of his ears as if beating harder would keep it going, and as his skin flushed desperately hot, the barrel of the gun was cold pressure against his spine, the cold promise of the end.

_Sorry._

_Aerith…_

He heard the pause in Yazoo's breathing, the tightening of leather behind him as the experiment slowly pulled the trigger…

"ZACK!"

Cloud's voice tore the world to pieces.

Halfway through firing, Yazoo started and jerked around to aim at the blonde running down the hall, emptying the round that would have ended Zack's life into a wall.

In the next second, Zack was moving, dropping low as the Buster Sword came up, and Yazoo screeched agony as the blade caught and cut flesh, and Loz was bellowing in anger. Then Cloud was in the middle of the fray, and metal dragged over leather as he drew a second fragment of his sword, and then Zack's ears were filled with gunshots and lead pounding steel as Cloud blocked bullets with blades.

A shock in his shoulder and a suddenly numb left arm announced Loz's involvement in the fight, and Zack grunted heavily in irritation as he kicked out and backed away, trying to shake sensation back into his arm. The deadened limb refused to respond, but one hand was enough to curl around the hilt of the Buster Sword and carefully heft the blade.

Jaw tightening, closing his eyes against the bursts of sparks from Cloud and Yazoo's fight, Zack struggled to block the gunshots from his ears and focus on the nearby sound.

Ringing in his ears informed him just how much the repeated noise had damaged his hearing.

Then—

The faintest crackle of electricity in the air to his left—

And he leapt forward, feeling the wind of Loz's punch against his back as it missed him by inches—

His right elbow hit the ground first, and he tucked it in and rolled quickly, holding the Buster Sword tight to keep from impaling himself, and he rolled once before he could brace his weight on his good arm and lever himself off the ground and raise the blade high—

_Not the back of the sword this time._

Wrists whirling the blade once, he brought it crashing down and bright blue electricity blasted into his retinas even through his closed eyelids as the Dual Hound split cleanly in half.

Squinting one eye open, Zack peered through the darkness until a lucky flash of lightning revealed Loz's face, staring sadly at his ruined pile bunker, lower lip trembling in a pout.

Zack groaned ruefully. "Surrender?" He offered carefully, gauging the other man's reaction.

Loz tore the useless half of the Dual Hound off of his arm and lifted his fists—pausing to hurriedly wipe at his eyes. "Play with me," the silver-haired man challenged, voice choked with petulant tears.

The blunt of the Buster Sword slammed into his exposed side, and a few distinct cracking noises told Zack that he'd broken at least three ribs, and then Loz was on the ground, grunting and panting in breathless agony.

Standing over him, Zack grunted quietly. "I suck at games."

…

There was a red haze over his vision and blood pounding in his ears and there might have been a grin on his face but he didn't want to think about that and so he stopped thinking about it and gave himself over to the rush of green poison and adrenalin and blood inside his head.

He'd almost forgotten how to _move_, sometime in the last three years, when restraint had become so habitual that the strength was harder to recall than the weakness, and he'd thought it was okay to forget this, to forget the animal that lurked inside him, but it hadn't been tamed at all. A little thing, a thing so simple as the sight of a gun pressed to the back of his best friend's neck set him off in an instant, and all those familiar chains he'd wrapped around the madness inside of him were torn to shreds, and there was a monster inside his head that screamed for blood.

The beast inside was laughing now, and Cloud was dancing for the monster, a sword in each hand and the breath electrified in his lungs and adrenalin pounding at the inside of his eyes. White-hot sparks flew as lead screeched against steel and he blocked the bullets with ease, the darkness as clear as midday, the paths of the shots as plain as if they were painted on his eyes.

His left hand rose to block a bullet, his right heel pounded once against the floor, and then he was rocketing forward to close the distance between himself and Yazoo, and the experiment sidestepped just in time to avoid taking both swords into the gut.

The beast inside roared in frustration.

Cloud caught himself on his hands and flipped onto his feet, dropping and turning to avoid another shot that missed his head by inches. He rose to strike the next one aside, and then his hands came together with a click and a whir as the two swords connected, and then he was flying forward, Fusion Sword whirling in a circle, and when he came to a stop the Velvet Nightmare fell to the ground in pieces, and Yazoo howled as blood spurted from a long cut on his upper arm.

The beast inside howled victory.

Cloud bellowed with it.

Then he closed the distance again, and used the flat of the blade to sweep Yazoo's feet from under him, and the monster laughed as the experiment hit the ground, breath blowing out in a rush, leaving the man gasping desperately for oxygen.

If Yazoo's blank green eyes widened in terror when Cloud leaned over him, it was no surprise.

Cloud placed one foot on Yazoo's chest to hold him in place while the monster watched the blood run down his sword appreciatively.

_If I soak it in enough blood…maybe hers will finally wash off…_

Then a neat punch landed on the inside of his arm, and his muscles spasmed in involuntary response, and the Fusion Sword clattered to the ground.

Zack gave Cloud a quiet, cold look and bent to deliver one solid punch to Yazoo's jaw, knocking the thin man out in a single strike. "Incapacitated, not dead," he commanded coolly, ripping a strip of cloth out of Yazoo's shirt to bind his hands.

Cloud hung his head and massaged the inside of his arm, avoiding Zack's eyes.

The bigger man sighed and slapped Cloud's shoulder, hard. "Hey, Mister I-Can-See-In-The-Dark, can you see Reno or Rude around here?"

Before Cloud could respond, a quiet grunt answered Zack's question. "Alive," Rude stated curtly, not stirring from where he lay on the ground.

Next to him, Reno groaned in agreement. "Feel like a tenderized steak, yo."

Zack snorted faintly, sliding the Buster Sword into position between his shoulder blades. "The other Turks will get you out if you call, yeah?"

Reno slowly turned his head to glare at Zack. "Turks look out for Turks, Sarge."

With a curt nod, Zack turned away. "Then call Shinra. Get out and get to a hospital. We can take it from here."

"Then why aren't you moving your left arm?"

Scowling at Rude, Zack gripped his left shoulder, trying again to massage sensation back into the deadened flesh. "It'll be fine in a second. Don't worry your pretty little head over it."

"Zack."

Cloud's voice was quiet, hesitant, almost shamefaced. Turning to look at him—or where he assumed he was in the darkness—Zack responded, "Yeah, Nimbostratus?"

Staring devoutly at the floor, Cloud asked: "Why were you fighting the brothers in the first place?"

"Ah, well, that's 'cause they were trying to get Seph the masamune, and for Gaia's sake the last thing we need is for him to get his hands on a weapon—"

"They had it with them?"

Zack peered into the darkness, wishing he could get a good glimpse of Cloud's face. "Yeah, they dropped it when we started fighting. Why?"

A blast of lightning granted him the look he'd wanted, and immediately he wished he could take it back. Cloud's eyes were wide and wild, his mouth twisted into a tight line, his nostrils flared and one cheek dusted with Yazoo's blood. He looked insane—and terrified.

"It's not here. The masamune. It's not here!"

"…Oh, _hell_."

…XxX…

Tseng's headset crackled petulantly, and the black-haired man muttered into it for a few moments before turning to face Shinra. "Reno and Rude have been severely injured, sir, and are requesting assistance to leave the building."

Shinra, without removing his eyes from Aerith's face, asked, "And what is the situation?"

"It seems that Sephiroth is now armed with his masamune. Fair is injured, but Strife is unhurt, and the two men are now seeking to regroup with the others still inside before searching for the general. The three experiments have been incapacitated and captured."

A smile spread slowly across Rufus's face, and the pure coldness of it sent chills down Aerith's spine. "Send in a team to retrieve them, and put the three in a jail somewhere or something. Somewhere where they won't escape."

"Yes, sir."

Sighing, Shinra leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers calmly. "It would appear my ace has changed the result of the first hand, Miss Gainsborough. The first round is mine. Care to begin round two?"

Aerith glared at him over her hand of cards. "I don't have anything to play."

Tinged with feral fury and a bit of arrogance, Shinra grinned. "Oh, but I think you do."

Gritting her teeth, Aerith resisted the urge to slap him and narrowed her eyes at her cards instead. "All I've got…I guess this?"

She threw one card onto the table.

And Shinra grinned.

"The Joker. The trump card. And you said you didn't have anything, Miss Gainsborough."

Aerith slumped in her chair with a groan. "I don't understand how it's played…"

"It wins."

When she looked at him with shocked eyes, his face betrayed nothing but utter seriousness. "It's what 'trump card' means, Miss Gainsborough. In essence, it wins the hand. Very few card combinations can top the Joker." Carefully, he placed two cards on the table—a king and a ten.

"Twenty-one," Aerith murmured. "Can it beat the Joker?"

Shinra lifted one eyebrow.

"Tseng, switch to the video from the group room. Let the second round begin."

…XxX…

There was slime and silk and oily snakeskin in the room.

"I'm looking for the dark-haired girl, Valentine."

Insane green eyes glowed in the black room, and Yuffie had never seen those eyes so close before, and pure animal instinct had her shrinking behind Vincent, because they were eyes that knew no mercy and eyes that gave no quarter and eyes that would never bargain, and she was very, very afraid.

In the darkness, Vincent was silent.

Pale lips curved and green eyes stayed cold as Sephiroth smiled.

"Come now, Valentine. You have no quarrel with me, do you? Just tell me what I want to know, and I'll leave you be. I won't even hurt the little girl behind you."

Amber eyes flashed through shadow. Lightning painted the room in white, reflecting off the mirror-bright masamune and the dull silver of Sephiroth's hair.

"Could it be you still wish to die, Valentine? After all, it was your fault that dear Miss Crescent died three years ago—ah, if only you hadn't slept with her, if only you hadn't fathered that child that killed her just by being born—"

And Vincent laughed for the first time Yuffie could remember hearing, a short bark of a thing, humorless and black, but it wasn't despairing and it wasn't depressed, just furious and derisive.

"It won't work, Sephiroth."

The general hummed innocently, cocking his head like a puppy.

Pulsing with fire, Vincent's eyes burned through the darkness. "You can't make me want to die anymore. I accepted my sin and I will accept whatever punishment awaits me in the next life—but not before I live out this one. I won't die, Sephiroth. Not now that I have something to live for."

Yuffie's hands fisted in his cape and her face pressed into his shoulder blades.

Through the shadows, Sephiroth smirked, and his eyes were cold. Lightning shattered into reflections on the masamune.

"Maybe you won't _die_, Valentine…but any man can be killed."

…XxX…

_A/N_

_Ugh. I meant to update yesterday, really I did, but somehow I got bullied into covering a double-shift at work and was literally there for ten hours. NEVER AGAIN._

_Also, just to people who don't know, 'nimbostratus' is a type of cloud._

_And I'd like to sit here and rationalize Cloud losing control like that, if no one minds. As everyone has noticed, the guys have pretty much all gone into sort of cruise-control super-soldier mode. The thing is, for Cloud, that mode was always, "kill whatever is in front of me." For all his time at war he never once held back—he never had to show mercy, and never had to stop himself; he just fought until he collapsed. When he hit that default mode again, his subconscious didn't see the need to change that pattern. Please forgive me._

_Aside from that, I don't think I have anything to say, so thank you, everyone, for your FANTABULOUS reviews last chapter, and please please please review!_


	25. Running

**Review Responses:**

**Kurogane7**: I know, I spent so long thinking how this fight would go…I hope the end result turned out okay. **Chocobo Confectionary**: Hah, thanks. I figured I needed a bit of comedy in the middle of all this fighting. **ken08002**: Pray for Tifa. Poor woman. Hah. "Before Rufus psychologically murders her." Nice. **Nineveh03**: Really? Thanks! I love insane people, too, so no forgiveness required. Glad you like the epic—fighting in the dark is just more awesome, y' know? I know, I'm too much of a romance writer to be writing this much action. Gah. Also, you're too nice to my Rufus. I just like making him evil. **NamioftheSea**: Hooray for epic battles! Love, man. **kerapal bubbles**: I can't make promises about people not dying…don't kill me…! **vLuna**: Hah, yeah, I don't even know what he's doing over there. Creepy man. **AvengedRomantic**: I already responded to you, but I would feel bad if I left you out here, so I'll just say thank you for the awesome review once again, it blew my mind. **Chibi Emo-Chan**: HAH. Glad you liked it so much! **riceball793**: Yeah, bit of a close call there. Sheesh. I know, a bit of subtle Vincent/Yuffie fluff. And Sephiroth gets an epic, deep, creepy line. Hooray! **kitsune13**: I love that moment, too—*sticks with sword* Not dead yet, eh? *twists sword* Also, I loved your off-topic rant, just because I love talking about the obscure nuances of Cloud with anybody, and you're always the best for that type of thing. I'm glad you liked Vincent's response to Seph—I rolled around my room squeeing helplessly when I first thought of it. Thanks for the awesome review, Miss Tamlin. **Leah Conner**: That mental image is 100% correct. IT'S SO SCARY. Also, Spanish is also insufficient for love-of-Zack. I find Latin helps. Hah, I'm glad at least one person likes my cliffies—'cause I love them. And I do the exact same thing during Cloud units in science. Hooray for fangirl mindset! **Darkhorse666**: Calm, darling, calm. I know, Cloud is the smex and Shinra's surprisingly badass. Huzzah! **Vanilla Raindrops**: Damn, I'm losing! You just wait. Also, they're both insane, so just be scared of both and hide in a corner. I love writing dialogue for Reno and Rude, too—otherwise they're a pain, but their lines are lovely. Hah, and yes, I love my words of the day. They happen. A lot.

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Twenty-Five: Running

_(I am SO TIRED of disclaimers. Bah. I don't own FFVII or any of the related characters or setting. There, lawyer-people, are you HAPPY?)_

She was running in the dark, and she felt like she'd been running for forever and would keep running for the rest of eternity.

She was running to find Cloud, and maybe she'd been running to find Cloud for the last seven years, without even knowing whom she was running towards. Maybe she'd been running to find Cloud her whole life long.

There was no sound beyond the quiet squealing of her shoes on the tile and her own heartbeat, pounding inside her ears.

_Where is he…?_

…XxX…

_Tifa._

"Vincent?" Zack asked as the two men ran through the halls of the Help Center.

"In the group room," Cloud responded curtly.

"And the girls?"

He swallowed quietly.

"With Vincent."

Zack turned to look for Cloud in the darkness.

"Is Vincent good enough to win…or to buy us enough time to get there?"

The only response was the hushed sound of Cloud's breathing and the near-imperceptible quickening of his footsteps on the floor.

"Not even that?"

Cloud grunted noncommittally in reply, lowered his head, and tried to run faster. The monster living inside of him growled furiously, its crimson presence pounding on the inside of his skull, demanding, promising. _More speed,_ it swore, _more strength. I can make you strong, strong enough to save her…_

Gritting his teeth, he shoved the thought aside and concentrated on moving faster.

_Tifa._

_Tifa!_

…XxX…

"A king and ten against a joker," Shinra mused quietly, resting his chin on the backs of his hands. "I wonder who will win…"

Aerith turned from staring at the screen to gape at him. "How are you _doing_ this?"

Carefully rolling his head to the side, Rufus popped his neck and smiled at her. "Just how one always wins at cards. Educated guessing. A little luck. And a very, very carefully shuffled deck."

…XxX…

_Sexists!_

A bead of sweat condensed on Yuffie's temple, slowly slipping down a round cheek to follow the curve of her jaw, falling from the point of her chin to land soundlessly against the ground.

The stillness in the room was nigh unbreakable.

_Sexist jerks!_

She knew without having to move or speak that both Vincent and Sephiroth had counted her out of the equation. Amber was locked with green across the darkness of the room, and those connected eyes saw and knew nothing else, and neither moved.

_Vincent has range on Sephiroth…_ Yuffie thought furiously, trying to figure out which way the duel would go once it began. _But in a closed space, that's no use. Then again, Sephiroth won't be able to fully use the masamune in a room like this…_

Stillness.

Sephiroth was smiling in the darkness.

Vincent's eyes were narrowed to slits, unblinking, waiting for movement to appear in his dimmed sight.

_If Sephiroth attacks first, he'll have to be committed to the attack and won't be able to block Vincent's shots,_ she realized, finally understanding the general's hesitation. _And if Vincent moves first, there's no way of knowing if Sephiroth is fast enough to stop him before he can fire. Closing the distance would make the masamune useless, but Sephiroth's too fast—he might win if it came to hand-to-hand. And even though Cerberus fires three bullets at once, Vincent can only fire six times before he runs out of ammo…If Sephiroth can dodge those initial six shots…_

_Vincent will lose…_

No movement, not even blinking.

Tension.

Electricity.

There was no time. It would come down to an instant.

One split second.

_Sexists._

_Don't just count me out…!_

Within the darkness of cloud cover, Yuffie was nearly blind.

_I know he's too fast for me._

_But I can make an opening for Vincent._

Even breathing went silent in the shadows.

Electricity crackled through the air.

_I'm blind now._

_But the next time lightning strikes…!_

Atmospheric tension.

Vincent's eyes blazed like fire in the darkness.

Luminescence glinted off Sephiroth's teeth as he smiled.

The stillness was nigh unbreakable.

No movement, not even blinking.

_Wait._

_For the lightning._

_For an opening._

_Wait._

_Wait._

And then—

Blaring white, just outside the window—

Near simultaneous, lightning and thunder ripped the earth to shreds—

And, for one split second, the whole room turned white and shadows in Yuffie's eyes—

"_VINCENT!_" She screamed, and then her shuriken was screaming through the air towards Sephiroth, and the general blinked once in surprise.

A howl in the silence, like the scream of a wolf.

"_Yuffie, don't!"_

The air parted with a shriek as the masamune swept out, and across, and up.

An explosion rent the room as Cerberus fired.

Steel crashed to the ground.

Yuffie screamed.

…

Tifa's head whipped around in the darkness.

_Was that a scream?_

She spun in the darkness, disoriented, searching for a wall or a person or anything to hold on to, to ground herself.

She'd been so focused on running after Cloud.

She'd forgotten where she stood.

…

Pale hands rose to knead at his brow as Shinra leaned forward onto the table, staring at his cards.

"Not even a king and a ten can stand against him?" He snarled, sweeping the papers to the side with his arm. "Not even then?"

Hesitantly, Aerith reached out across the table to touch the back of his hand with delicate fingers, careful, comforting. Shinra looked up, and the Mask was already back in place, and he smiled frostily at her and slipped his hands out from under hers and hid them neatly underneath the table.

"The round belongs entirely to you, Miss Gainsborough."

…

_It hurts._

_Oh Gaia it hurts it hurts it hurts…_

_Vincent—where's Vincent—_

"It's useless to try and stand, little girl."

Even if she could have seen in the darkness, she couldn't have moved against the agony screaming through her, and her only response was a whimper into the tile against her face. She couldn't see and she couldn't think past the agony but she knew Sephiroth was smiling down at her, green eyes glowing with tender malice.

"I severed both of your _rectus femoris_, the muscles in the front of your thighs. You won't be able to bend your knee or move your hip until it's repaired—and the more you try to move now, the more you'll damage the muscle and make healing less likely. You should be grateful," Sephiroth cooed, reaching down to pat her head gently. "I didn't cut the femoral artery. If I had, you'd have bled out in less than ten seconds."

Turning away from Yuffie, Sephiroth went to stand over Vincent, who was grinding his teeth to hold back the whimpers of agony. Tilting his head, the general smiled down at the mercenary.

"I'm impressed, Valentine. You got a shot off before I killed you, _and_ you managed to avoid the blow that should have cut you in half. Well, you didn't avoid it _entirely_, but you are commendable nonetheless. Shame about your left hand."

Releasing a small sound, Vincent twisted his head to stare at the bleeding stump that had used to be his left forearm.

Sephiroth clucked quietly. "You'll probably bleed to death before help comes for you." Shaking his head, the general turned to leave. "You're a fool, Valentine. If you'd only given me Cloud's woman, you would have lived."

A soft click was the only sound as Sephiroth slid the door closed behind him.

_It hurts._

_It hurts!_

She trembled with the effort it took to merely move, but small fingers stretched out and seized the tattered fringes of Vincent's cape. Dragging herself forward on her elbows, her legs wailing protest every time torn flesh dragged over cold tile, she pulled herself, inch by agonizing inch, to Vincent's side.

With a quiet grunt, he rolled just enough to lift his right hand and cup her face.

"Yuffie," he groaned.

Biting back a wail of pain, she forced a smile and lightly kissed his cheek. Then she ripped a piece of Vincent's cloak free with her teeth, balancing on her elbows as she carefully tied the tourniquet around his bleeding arm. He grunted once before gritting his teeth and holding back the sounds of pain.

Shaking fingers securing the knot, she exhaled in a rush and rolled onto her side, whimpering gently.

_If I never walk again, if I never run again…_

_At least I can do this._

_At least I can save you._

…

"_Vincent! Yuffie!_"

_What?_

Sweet blackness had wrapped itself around his senses, a delightful dullness, dampening everything, drowning it in fog. It was cold in the fog, a cold that reminded him of Lucrecia, and perhaps she had finally come to collect the penitence he promised.

But even as Lucrecia's cool arms lulled him towards sleep…

Other voices, more _real_ voices, called him to waking.

"Vincent! Vincent, Tifa's not here. Where's Tifa? _Where is Tifa?_"

"Strife," he grunted, finally recognizing the voice.

"Cloud, put him _down_, he's barely even alive! I need to bandage this wound before he bleeds to death!"

Blinking, Vincent struggled to focus through the black mist wrapped around his senses. There was Fair—and there was pain, and the sound of cloth tearing as Fair's shirt became bandages, wrapped roughly around his bleeding arm. And there was Strife, wide-eyed and wild, his eyes burning like torches of blue flame in the darkness, desperate, seeking. And there was one more—there should have been one more—

"Yuffie," he growled, struggling to sit up. "Where is Yuffie?"

"Unconscious," Zack grunted, tying a final knot on Vincent's bandage. "She probably passed out from the pain. I bandaged her cuts, so she's not going to die anytime soon."

"_Vincent_."

The mercenary turned to the voice and immediately wished he hadn't, when glazed amber met insane blue that burned with insanity and desperation. "_Where is Tifa?_"

"She went after you," he responded curtly. "Nothing would have stopped her from following you, Strife. Even into death."

The room was very quiet for a moment.

A shuddering breath rushed in and out of Cloud.

"Zack."

"Mm?"

"You get these two out. I'm going to find Sephiroth."

Blinking, Zack's mouth worked for a moment before he spluttered, "Cloud—look, it'll be faster if we both look for him—"

"No."

The word was flat, toneless, and final, like a slap in the face. Cloud looked down at Zack, his eyes unseeing. "You're hurt, and Vincent and Yuffie are on the verge of death. I can do this alone. It's better if I do this alone. _This is my fight._"

A heavy darkness settled in the room as Cloud waited impatiently for Zack's response.

The soldier swallowed and peered through the dark, looking for his friend. "Can you really fight him alone?"

Cloud sucked in a breath. It caught in his throat and choked him until he had to force out the answer:

"This is my fight."

Zack scratched the back of his neck and shook his head. "Tifa will cry if you die, Cloud."

The other man was already out the door and starting to run down the hall, his response whispered into the darkness, unheard.

"But only for a while…"

…XxX…

"Once more, Miss Gainsborough. This shall be the final round."

Aerith sighed and threw her cards against the side of the trailer. "This is insane, Shinra! Metaphor or whatever, I don't care—there are people _dying_ in there, and I have to go help—"

Elena moved to block the door, but Shinra had already caught Aerith's wrist in a single bony hand, and he looked up at her with true, unmasked eyes, eyes that looked into her and ravaged all her mental defenses and saw straight through into the insides of her.

"What will you do, Aerith Gainsborough?" He growled, voice low and tense and _knowing._ "You're only a girl—a child, a _human_—and inside that building is an enemy that goes infinitely beyond human capability. So what could you do, a single little human woman, do against Sephiroth?"

She stared back at him, and the eyes that looked into her _knew_ her, and her breath caught in terror, and Shinra smiled the pale-lipped smile of death.

"What use can a human woman be to the man she loves?" He whispered. Releasing her, he leaned back in his chair and placed one more card on the table. "I suppose we're about to find out," he mused, fingers tapping against his lips. "Queen against joker."

Aerith collapsed into her chair and buried her face in her hands. "She has no chance. She can't do anything. A human woman can't be of any use…"

Shinra smiled.

…XxX…

There was a change in the still darkness.

Her breath turned into ice inside her lungs, and she froze where she stood, and waited for the words she knew would be coming.

"Some part of me feels I should apologize to you."

She pulled one steeling breath in, straightened her shoulders, and turned to face the man who had carved her open seven years ago.

"But then I realized," Sephiroth mused, stepping closer. "That it really was _your_ fault, not mine. See, if you had not loved Cloud, if you had not made Cloud love you in return—then I would never have needed to cause you this pain."

In the time between two breaths he closed the distance between them, and before she could even react he had caught her by the throat and pulled her in close, her back pressed to his chest and the masamune held carefully between them, a cold steel pressure against her skin.

"And _now_," he hissed in her ear, as she tossed her head, wriggling against his grip. "Now you are just a poor woman, in love with a monster that can never be human enough to love you or beast enough to protect you. _Do you understand?_ You're going to die here, but you're going to endure unimaginable agony first, because it will cause him pain. He may not love you, but he certainly lusts for you, certainly cares for you, and to know that you died screaming and writhing at my feet—I fancy it will drive him quite mad."

"You're disgusting," she hissed, and the blade of the masamune pressed tighter to her back, as if to remind her that she was in no position to be throwing insults.

"I asked you," he cooed quietly. "If you understood. You have thrown away life and heart for this man—who will never love you in return. In exchange for all that you have given him, he will give absolutely nothing. Understand that, and answer me: _do you regret it?_"

Silence.

Then:

"_Never_."

A chuckle.

A silk and poison smile.

"_Though warned otherwise_

"_We play with blue fire and burn._

"_How regrettable._"

Then she felt his arms constrict and the blade of the masamune against her back—

And then the world was lost in red and agony and the distant sound of her own voice screaming.

…XxX…

_A/N_

_Sorry it's late. Don't kill me for the cliffie._


	26. Too Late

**Review Responses:**

**Kurogane7**: I just couldn't kill Vincent and Yuffie, I love them too much. Hah. Thanks for the lovely review! **NamioftheSea**: I'm glad you have such faith in my Cloudy! He's a dear, isn't he… **kerapal bubbles**: HAH. I make no promises on anybody dying. Lovely review, thanks very much! **Camilla Hassett**: Well, Yuff and Vin are fine for the moment. As for Tifa… Ahem. And yeah. Shinra is confusing. I tend to just kinda…let him do as he likes. Aerith is confused, too. **Nineveh03**: Joy and glee that you still went through all that trouble to review, you wonderful person! I'm glad you approve of ammo-consideration—seriously, nobody thinks about that. And yeah, I worked on Yuffie a bit. I don't think she's as much of a brat as she's commonly portrayed, but she's still a little immature. Also, Cloud goes insane for you. He goes INSANE. **Chibi Emo-Chan**: Hah, I'm very sorry to have stressed you so much. Here, have a conclusion to your cliffhanger, especially for you. **Vanilla Raindrops**: Thanks! Yeah, Cloud VS Sephiroth this time. Oh, dear. Actually, Zack really can't take Sephiroth. He tried once, back during the war, and got his butt kicked. And yeah, Tifa was kinda useless. And Sue Storm is pwnage. Just saying. **vLuna**: Hah, sorry, Vincent's down an arm. HAH. You shall get your Cloud VS Sephiroth this chapter, never fear. **Ohsnapples**: Hah! Thanks for the review, it made me laugh. Here, an update just for you. **ken08002**: Yeah, Yuffie and Vinnie are a bit down for the count. Cloud to the rescue indeed… **AvengedRomantic**: Your review was…SPECTACULAR and I wish I had the time or the energy to go into more detail on just how much I love you (sorry, it's currently 1 in the morning, I HAD to post this) but let me just reiterate how very much your every review brings me glee and inspiration. You, dear reviewer, are the reason I write.

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Twenty-Six: Too Late

_(Disclaimer. Not mine. Squeenix. I am so sick of writing these.)_

_Please._

He heard her screaming from another wing of the hospital, and he knew.

_PLEASE._

He smelled her blood from three hallways away, and he knew.

_Not again._

He turned the corner with his eyes closed, but even without looking, he knew.

_Not again._

It was the smell of her blood on the ground.

_I can't do this again._

It was the sound of Sephiroth's quiet amusement in the air.

_I'll do anything._

_So please…_

It was the sight of her before him when he opened his eyes, a tangle of dark hair and pale skin and crimson blood staining both, sprawled out on the ground at his feet, still.

Deathly still.

He saw her and fell to his knees under the weight of the knowing.

_TOO LATE._

_AGAIN._

Something burning and feral clawed its way up his throat and fell out his mouth, and it took her name with it—

"Tifa," he choked, crawling forward on his hands and knees to touch that still-warm hand, that still-warm blood. "Tifa, _Tifa—_"

He couldn't see right anymore and it might have been because of the tears clouding his eyes and it might have been because there was fire flickering over his vision, and every blink took him between the Help Center and Nibelheim, and he was twenty-one and screaming her name, and he was fourteen and screaming her name—

"_TIFA!_"

And he was too late again.

Lightning tore apart the sky, and white light shattered on silver steel and silver hair as Sephiroth stretched out to press the bloodstained masamune to Cloud's cheek, and pale flesh parted and sent blood sheeting down his face, and salt tears mixed with blood in the wound and dripped down onto Tifa's body.

Broken blue looked up for dead green, and Sephiroth was smiling, and Cloud was crying.

And the young man gathered that beautiful broken body into his arms and looked up into the eyes of a murderer and screamed.

Pale lips curved into a smirk that knew no sympathy, and Sephiroth spoke: "We're not so different, Cloud."

Hiccupping sobs and ragged breathing were his only reply. The general sighed and continued. "All I want is my mother's love. Just the way you long for _her_." A dismissive jerk of Sephiroth's head in Tifa's general direction served as indication. "There is really only one difference between us, you know."

Cloud looked up into smirking green eyes, and Sephiroth only spoke the truth.

"_You_ are the one who is always too late."

…

"Sir?"

Shinra made a quietly questioning noise as he swirled his chair to look at Tseng. The black-haired Turk tapped his headset and listened for a moment before speaking. "There are three people exiting the hospital. Two appear wounded, the third unconscious."

"Ah, that'll be Fair with Valentine and Kisaragi. Get them to medical treatment, won't you?" Rufus hummed, turning back around to give the cards on the table one last look before sighing and standing. "I suppose that's my cue, then…"

Aerith looked at him with blankly horrified eyes and spluttered, "But—the game—it can't just end like this! The saving throw—you get to play one last card, don't you?" Verdant green met icy grey, and Shinra smiled a wry smile with half of his mouth, an expression that could have meant absolutely anything. Pale fingers reached down to flip one of the card from his abandoned hand, sliding it onto the table.

"An ace," Aerith sighed, a gentle smile beginning to threaten the corners of her mouth. "But shouldn't that be enough, against the Joker?"

Sighing, Rufus turned away from the table, staring contemplatively at the wall. "You asked me earlier, Miss Gainsborough, if I played this game ace high or low. Now, ordinarily it would be ace low. However, if a queen is on the table, the ace is played high."

Shooting to her feet, Aerith crowed, "But then it should be ace high! You just played—"

"_But_ if the queen is removed from play," Shinra spoke over her, drowning out her protests. Leaning back, he carefully slid the queen card to the side, away from the active cards. "As she just was by the Joker—the ace is immediately low again."

Aerith looked down at the cards in horror. "He won't win…" she whispered.

By the time she looked up, Shinra had vanished from the trailer, without another word or secretive smile left in his wake.

…XxX…

_Kill…_

_Kill…_

_I'll kill you…_

The simple sight of a gun pressed to the back of Zack's neck had nearly unleashed the monster inside him.

The simple reality of Tifa, bleeding in his arms and Sephiroth smiling down and hissing the exact words that he could never, ever stand to hear shattered every chain he'd placed on the beast.

"_I'LL KILL YOU!_"

He had the sense remaining to lower Tifa to the ground before his arm whipped around and found the hilt of his sword, and then he was flying forward with a blade in either hand, and Sephiroth was _still smiling_.

The masamune came up to guard and pale lips smirked and the general quietly cooed, "Come and try, little brother."

And then sanity was lost in the rush of movement and adrenalin and the ecstatic roar as the monster rushed to the forefront and took control of his body, and the tiny, screaming, weeping entity that was Cloud Strife pulled back into the depths of his mind somewhere to hide and whimper and try to feel less something other than cold and broken and alone.

Because the monster was bellowing and dancing with fury and with glee and the monster didn't even notice when the flesh of its left arm was laid open and the monster didn't even blink when the flat of the masamune crashed into its side and broke two of its ribs. The monster didn't know how to be sane, and the monster didn't know how to feel, and the monster didn't know anything except the wild, addictive high of the adrenalin rush and the endless, undying desire to coat its teeth in blood.

So of course the beast wouldn't care when its skin tore and its blood spilled, because the monster knew no pain, and of course the monster wouldn't notice that it was losing horribly, because the beast knew only how to attack and how to kill, and the beast had no knowledge of how to die or how to stay alive.

And if Cloud Strife could just become that beast, could give himself over to the wild desire and the heady fury, then maybe he wouldn't feel so empty and so broken when he stared down at the torn body of his first and only girl.

And if Cloud Strife could have become that beast even a little while ago, then maybe she would have turned from him in disgust, and wouldn't have been torn in the first place.

Somewhere, far away from everything, Cloud Strife was crying out her name.

_Tifa…!_

…

…_hurts…_

…

Sephiroth was laughing and Cloud was bleeding and the monster was roaring fury with Cloud's mouth, and somewhere not so very far away, a heart that had been given away refused to stop beating.

…

_it hurts…_

_Cloud…_

…

The general was dancing as Cloud was staggering, and blood fountained from his arm, his side, his mouth, and tears still slipped down his cheek to mix with the congealed blood in the gash, and the beast drove onward, and the demon was laughing. Not so very far away, pale eyelids fluttered as wine-blood eyes moved restlessly beneath them.

…

_I swore to myself…_

_no matter how much it hurts…_

_if it's for Cloud…_

…

The blonde man stumbled for the last time and went crashing to the ground, and the monster snarled frustration with this damn body and its damn limits, and blood loss had deadened limbs and dulled senses, and the monster roared defiance at the smiling death that stared it down, and not so very far away, pale hands moved, and dark silk stirred.

…

_Stand up._

_He's calling for you._

_You lived through this pain once._

_Don't be beaten now._

_Not when Cloud needs you…_

_Stand up._

…

Sephiroth stood back a moment to admire his work as Cloud struggled weakly on the ground, hands unable to find purchase, feet unable to brace legs. He made a pretty bleeding picture, and when Sephiroth moved a step closer his head whipped around and pale lips pulled away from sharp teeth and Cloud growled like a wounded wolf.

The general closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose to calm his excitement.

"You've finally suffered enough," he murmured, opening his eyes and fixing dead green glee on Cloud. "Now, it's time for you to die."

Not so very far away, muffled ears heard, and a dimly aware mind violently rebelled, and pale arms tensed and braced and _moved_.

…

_NO!_

_I won't let Cloud die._

_I swore!_

_No matter how much it hurts!_

_I can't die!_

_Not while Cloud needs me to be alive…!_

_STAND UP!_

…

Drawing back, Sephiroth held the masamune poised to stab.

Snarling furiously, Cloud struggled violently until he could lift his torso from the ground.

Not so very far away, a broken, bleeding body stood up.

Sephiroth smiled.

Cloud roared.

And Tifa screamed.

And even as the masamune came out and down, pale hands closed around the blade and that beautiful broken body was flying across Cloud's line of sight, and the strike that should have impaled Cloud clipped his hip instead. Shock loosened Sephiroth's grip on the sword for less than half a second, but by the time his hands tightened again Tifa had wrenched the hilt from his grip, and then arms weakened by blood loss, strengthened by determination were casting the masamune as far as she could down the hall. Barely keeping her feet, staggering under agony and exhaustion and bone-deep desperation, she stood her ground and screamed:

"_As if I'd die from something like this!_"

And then everything went silent except for the ragged sound of her breathing.

A near-silent breath, the tiniest whisper of sound in the darkness of the hall, he sighed her name:

"_Tifa…_"

Gasping in agony, she collapsed onto her forearms, struggling just to keep her torso off the ground, but she writhed and turned to him all the same, and without even questioning he stretched out for her, caught her reaching hands and pulled her closer, and her back was screaming pain and every part of him hurt like hell but no matter the agony and no matter the fact that Sephiroth was standing only feet away, they would always reach out for each other.

Always.

"Alive," was the first word he said, and she took his hands to place them over the pulse in her throat and the heart that thundered in her chest, and he felt her blood and breath move beneath his fingers and remembered the words he'd thought not so long ago—

Her breathing was the most important sound in the world.

Her pulse was the most important motion in the world.

He looked up, and her brilliant, wine-dark eyes, bright and full of hope and light and _life_, were the most important eyes in the world.

"Promise me," she whispered, and he didn't even know what she was asking but the answer ripped out of him like his heart being torn up his throat—

"Anything."

Her fingers closed over his and clenched into the bloodstained fabric of her white shirt, and her heart was pounding so vigorously he could _hear_ it, and how had he ever lived without that soft, fragile, _vital_ sound? "Hold on and don't let go," she murmured, and he would have vowed in that second if she hadn't spoken again. "You can hold on to me—so please—until the day this heart stops beating, you can't die." Their fingers were digging into her skin but she wouldn't have had it any other way, this tiny pain the keep her centered against the agony of her body splitting open.

"Until the day I die, you have to stay alive. Promise me…"

Air hissed in through teeth clenched against pain, and that breath was the most important sound that had ever existed.

His hands dropped from her chest and her neck and he wanted to pull her close, he wanted to wrap her tight and swear the oath in her ear again and again and he wanted to hold her safe for the rest of eternity in his arms.

Because, for a moment, he had been fool enough to forget the demon that lurked over his shoulder.

Blindingly fast, too fast for Cloud's dulled responses to catch, Sephiroth swept in and a single bone-pale hand closed around that soft, fragile, _vital_ pulse and lifted her in the air as she coughed and kicked at his knees with feet that dangled off the ground.

"You _human bitch_," the general snarled. "How many times do I have to kill you before you _die?_"

Tifa beat fruitlessly against the arm holding her aloft, and that gentle, vital breathing was reduced to desperate, violent hacking as Sephiroth's hand tightened on her windpipe.

Cloud roared fury and tried to stand, desperately reaching out for his girl. Sephiroth sneered and drove a heel into Cloud's broken ribs, leaving the younger man howling in agony and gasping for breath as the shattered bones ripped open his lung and stole half his air.

Clawing at the fingers biting down on her throat, Tifa turned to Cloud and croaked two final words in desperation:

"Promise me!"

Gasping and panting and pouring panicked sweat from every pore, Cloud wheezed out her name.

"Tifa…"

Eyes wide, face turning red and mouth open and sucking for air, she had no breath to scream the words again, but her lips formed them without breath, begged without voice.

_Promise me!_

He grounds his face into the tile in desperation, gasping against agony and breathless heat, and howled the words, the first childish phrase that came to mind.

"_It's a promise!_"

Sephiroth arched an eyebrow at Tifa's gasping face and smirked pleasantly. "If he can die after you do," the general purred. "Then he won't have very long to wait."

Then, from the darkness of the hallway came the last voice that anyone expected to hear:

"Oh, for heaven's sake, general, put the woman down, there's no need to be so dramatic."

Rufus Shinra sauntered into the fight with his hands slung casually into the pockets of his suit and a charming smile smeared across his face.

Bony fingers slackened on Tifa's throat for just a moment, and in that same instant her hands came up and crashed down on Sephiroth's wrist, numbing his hand for just long enough for Tifa to rip herself loose, falling to the floor.

Cloud reached blindly for her, dragging her away from Sephiroth as she coughed and sucked in rattling breaths, struggling for air. He wheezed out agony from the effort, but she coiled weak arms around his neck in response to the hands he buried deep in her hair.

Too spent to move any more, he laid his head on the ground next to hers and whispered weakly, "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I was too slow, too weak, too late…_again_…"

_You idiot. _The words caught in her damaged throat, and all she could do was smile as she thought:

_Never…You're never too late._

…

"Aww," Shinra cooed, smiling down at the two injured people on the floor. "How very sweet. He needed something to tie himself to, to separate himself once again from the 'monster' in his head…and she offered her life as that tie. She let him attach his sanity and his very existence to that fragile constant of her heartbeat. It's a tenuous bond, but one that has entangled them both, body, mind, and life…"

"Excuse me," Sephiroth interjected, sounding affronted. "I don't believe we're acquainted?"

Rufus looked up at the general and smiled icily, lips parting just enough to hint at sharp white teeth. " My name is Rufus Shinra. I'm the president of the country you aim to destroy."

Sephiroth smiled back, baring his fangs blatantly as he began, "And what gives you the right to—"

"Tseng, Fair, Valentine, can you hear me?" Shinra interrupted, talking right over the general. "Am I coming in clearly?" He tapped the headset seated in his right ear, adjusting it carefully.

"Sir," Tseng's voice came in through the earpiece, the director's deep tone tinged with static.

"Loud and clear, Pres," Zack amended.

"Excellent," Shinra cooed, before turning his head to call to Cloud over his shoulder. "And you, Strife? I assume you managed to retain consciousness."

Cloud, gasping for breath, glared up at Shinra without lifting his head and wheezed, "What the hell are you up to, Rufus?"

"I might ask the same question," Sephiroth snapped, clearly irritated by the fact that for the first time in his living memory someone seemed entirely unintimidated by him.

Rufus Shinra smiled a smile that could mean anything between hostility and glee, and closed the distance between himself and Sephiroth in two long strides, and hissed into the other man's face. "I'd like for all of you to listen carefully, because it would simply be much too troublesome for me to do this twice." Head tilting, he smiled winningly up at the general. "I'm here to tell you a story, Sephiroth.

"A story about a woman. A woman with wings…"

…XxX…

_A/N_

_This is probably the chapter I put the most work into since the day I started this story, so I think I'll just let it stand on its own and beg everyone to please, please, please review._


	27. Wings

**Review Responses:**

**ken08002**: Doesn't he just? Seriously, somebody slap that man. Thanks for the review! **kerapal bubbles**: I'M VERY SORRY. Here, tissues. Also, Rufus doesn't care if we have time. He tells his story when he wants to, damn him. **Vanilla Raindrops**: Ano, me too. He's just so adorably insane. Ah, Rufus. It WOULD be a priceless moment, wouldn't it? I'd love to see it…Yes! Don't underestimate Tifa. I love her. **7th fire**: Thanks, I always love writing Sephy. Here, update just for you. **Kurogane7**: Is Rufus EVER up to any good? I don't think so. The evil smirk is in full swing. **Nineveh03**: You're back! Gleefulness! Precisely—he could come up with the story when it was convenient, but noooo. And yes, the story has no intentions of ending anytime soon. Glad you like my cliffies—I think most people hate me for them. Awesome review, my love. **shadowneko003**: Ugh, the card game makes no sense. I have no idea what he's doing. It just freaks me out. I have no idea if Jenova had wings. The beauty of AU! **NamioftheSea**: Oh, I could never let them die. They're too sexy to die. Also, I'll tell you what Rufus means just as soon as he tells me. **SorrowsFlower**: Let me begin with OHMYGOD I love you and your writing and I'm insanely gleeful that you're reviewing my story at all. Whoo. Okay, that's out of my system. Now. Sephiroth does need to be slapped for intruding on the fluff. Darn him! Also, Rufus scares me. He really does. I have no idea what he's up to. And you seriously summed up my Cloud/Tifa interaction right there: lust-love-caring-devotion-obsession. THAT'S IT EXACTLY. Amazing review, thank you so much! **Yo**: Hah, thanks! Most people just find it confusing, glad at least one person likes it! **PhsycopathicHeartbeat**: I don't read a lot of AU's either, but they're such fun to write, I couldn't help it. I'm flattered you like my fight scenes—they're so hard for me to write, I'm always really nervous after posting one. And yes. Sephiroth is very very evil. The man is scary, dude. Your review was awesome, I'm so glad you've found my story! Thank you! **Ohsnapples**: …Please don't hurt meeeee…I have an update for you… **Darkhorse666**: Aaah, darling, I love you too. Have I mentioned how much I love your reviews? Go get on Skype so I can nag you about reading this update. **vLuna**: Gah don't ruin your nail health for me! I'm proud of Tifa, too. Love that woman. And yes. Rufus is…unstable. **DeathNote93**: I'm glad you like it! Thanks for reviewing and I hope you keep reading my story! **riceball793**: Aww, you flatter me. I wish a was a published author. Cloud IS such a dearie, isn't he? Love, love, love. Glad you liked Tifa's line—I sat there for about fifteen minutes, like: "…Okay, she needs to yell something epic. Now WHAT?" I'm so glad you liked the chapter! **AvengedRomantic**: Well I'm glad you didn't cry! Cloud did break, didn't he? Poor thing, but it's okay, 'cause Tifa put him back together. Yaaay! Aaah, Rufus and his timing. He wouldn't be Rufus without it. Also, that's pretty much a perfect mental image. I giggle when you all freak out. TOTAL sadist over here. And…did you actually jump out of a chair in your doctor's waiting room? 'Cause that's probably the best praise I've ever heard. Thank you for such a fabulous review!

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Wings

_(All characters and settings are property of Square Enix and all them people. Not mine. I can only dream.)_

_There used to be a woman._

_A woman more beautiful and more perfect than anyone else who had ever lived or would live._

_A woman with wings…_

…

"What it really was," Shinra mused, pacing across the hall slowly, silently aware of Sephiroth's hawkish stare upon his back. "Was a curious genetic abnormality, carried upon the X chromosomes. A strange bit of inhuman genetic code, one that manifested in the most curious of ways—from extraordinary strength and unusually powerful senses to the development of _wings_. And yet that wasn't the strangest power granted by these abnormal genes—the woman had the ability to, simply put, asexually reproduce. Without requiring any male gametes, she could pass both of her abnormal X chromosomes to a daughter, impregnating herself without any need for external input.

"But that's only on a biological level," the president murmured, his pacing increasing in speed, his voice in volume. "Speaking idealistically, you can only call that woman, the original 'Mother,' the _perfect altruist_. She had no sense of self-preservation, but carried instead a violent need to protect everything around her. So strong was this compulsion that she _couldn't live among people_. She had to isolate herself in the wild, where she formed a perfect symbiosis with everything around her, taking exactly what she needed and giving just as much back…

"Beyond her circumstances, not much more is recorded about the Mother in written history. All we know is that she birthed two children—a daughter and a son." Shinra rounded on Sephiroth, his eyes wide and breathing coming faster, teeth bared in impassioned exhilaration. "After that she faded into the mists of time, but those children were so very important! See, although she could essentially clone herself, although she could produce a beautiful identical copy of her perfect existence—if she wanted to have a son, she needed a Y chromosome from someone. And so that son—and perhaps even the daughter—would have only inherited _one_ of those abnormal X chromosomes, only _one_ set of those strange and beautiful genes—and with each passing generation her power would be halved over and over again, with every son born the blood thinned more, and more…

"Until." Pale grey eyes whipped around to focus on the general that stood like a marble statue not so far away, green eyes narrowed and suspicious. "By strange and poignant series of coincidence, by a series of marriages and births and deaths so long and intricate even _I_ couldn't track it fully—the blood began to converge again. A man with an exponentially small amount of the proper genes had a child with a woman who also had the tiniest drop of Mother's blood, and the child was born with more power than either of its parents, and it happened again and again until—

"A son was born, a man who had exactly half of the original Mother's genetic code, a man who might have been her direct son.

"And that man, General Sephiroth, was _you._"

Green eyes narrowed silently.

Static and electric through his headset, Shinra heard Fair and Valentine suck in a quiet breath.

Behind him, a single word fell out of Cloud's gasping mouth.

"What…?"

"And just like every young child with multiple siblings," Shinra continued, voice loud and commanding, not drowning out but erasing every other sound. "You felt that every one of your brothers and sisters, every human who had even a small fragment of your Mother's genes was a rival, an enemy, someone who was stealing your Mother's attention and affection _just by existing._ You had to get rid of them. You desperately needed that love from Mother. But the genes, the blood, had proliferated throughout an entire country. Nearly every person in Midgar had some measure of the line—so how could you ever get rid of them all?

"Simple.

"_Genocide_."

Pale lips pulled back from white teeth, and Sephiroth hissed as Zack growled through the headset and Cloud snarled like a wolf.

Shinra resumed his pacing, gesturing wildly with his hands as he spoke. "You allied yourself with Wutai, because the rare intermarriage between the two countries had allowed almost none of the blood to spread to the other nation. Insinuating your way into Wutai's military, you gained power and prestige, until you had enough of a following to march on Midgar, to fight a war that would eliminate every man, woman, and child in this country.

"But even then _it wasn't enough!_" He screeched, throwing his hands in the air, the cry a scream and a brittle laugh as one. "Even if you killed every last one of your siblings, it would never be enough. Because even then you'd still only be half as powerful as your Mother; even then, you still wouldn't be _enough_. So you enlisted a leading geneticist, a man with just enough insanity to be working in the exact same line as you—Doctor Hojo. You let him extract your cells, let him pull apart your genome until he could isolate that exact string of genetic code that _made you what you are_. You spliced the genes into the stem cells of your soldiers, cultivated the cells until they grew like a cancer—and then you injected them with them—into their organs, their spinal cords, their blood, their _brains_."

His fervent pacing beginning to slow, Shinra drew in several deep breaths and carefully smoothed the front of his suit. "The cells were nearly exactly like cancer—they multiplied wildly, replacing the natural cells of the men with the new code. The Wutaian soldiers, who had none of the Mother's blood and no tolerance against the vicious changes occurring inside their bodies, died nearly instantly."

From the headset in his ear, Zack's voice questioned quietly, "But Vincent…"

"My grandmother was of Midgar," the ex-mercenary growled quietly. "I must have had just enough of these genes to keep me alive."

Shaking his head, Shinra ignored the voices and continued, "The Midgar soldiers who had joined you lasted longer—they had some measure of immunity, of tolerance, and their bodies held up under the violent transformation for a time—but before long it would become too much, and nearly all died in the end. All except one man—_one man_, one man you thought was dead four years before, one man who you tried to kill for having too much of that blood you so crave—

"Isn't that right," Shinra cooed with a smile, turning over his shoulder to bare his teeth at the wheezing man on the ground behind him. "Isn't that exactly right, Cloud?"

Glaring up at the president, Cloud spat out a mouthful of blood and coughed out, "What are you playing at, Shinra?"

Ignoring him, Rufus continued. "Strife was proof the treatments worked—though he had much more of the genes than the average man, he still had less than you; if the injections had worked on him, naturally they would work on you. So you began giving yourself the treatments, but you didn't expect that the side effects would take such toll on you—the agony, the lack of sleep, the violent breakdown of untreated organs. Your leadership skills deteriorated, and suddenly, before you noticed, your precious little war was _lost_. The shock was too much for your weakened mind to take. You lost it in the lab, and you lost your war, and you lost _everything_.

"And that brings us to the present date," Shinra sighed, folding his hands neatly behind his back, another incomprehensible smile tweaking his lips as he stared casually at Sephiroth.

The general drew in a deep breath through his nose, fighting down irritation. "You're well informed," he stated simply.

Shinra quirked an eyebrow in response. "Though Hojo was mad, he was a doctor at heart. And even the worst doctor takes notes."

Green eyes tightening with suspicion, Sephiroth hissed, "You have told me absolutely nothing I did not already know, yet you wasted the time for your story as _your_ allies lay bleeding behind you. Why?"

Sighing, Shinra lifted a delicate hand to his head, as if to relieve a headache. "Who knows…? Perhaps they are not my allies after all, and I merely wished to see them suffer." In his ear, he heard Fair growl and Valentine hiss. "Perhaps I simply have too much faith in their ability to stay alive until the end. Perhaps I have no use for them now that they have proven unable to defeat you. Or perhaps this has all just been a ploy for time so that I could have this hospital surrounded by two hundred foot soldiers, twenty tanks and seven airborne fighter jets."

Sephiroth's jaw dropped. Just a little. And Rufus Shinra smiled. "I recognize your exceptional power, general, but I doubt even you can get through an entire army alive."

Brows knitting and eyes narrowing in suspicion, Sephiroth hissed, "You're bluffing."

Shinra smiled the smile that was joy and fury and every emotion between the two.

"Perhaps. But are you willing to stake your life on that chance?"

Green eyes held grey, and Sephiroth looked at Rufus Shinra with the glare that would have had any lesser man trembling in terror, but the president didn't even flinch, just kept smiling that marble fanged smile.

Chuckling ruefully, the general shook his head. "What are your terms?"

Rufus unclasped his hands and tucked them into his pockets, the picture of casual relaxation. "Just go. I'm rather tired of seeing your face."

Sephiroth snorted. "And I assume you have prepared an exit for me?"

Lifting one eyebrow, Shinra tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. "There's a skylight five feet above your head. Make your own exit."

Snarling quietly, the general hissed through his teeth: "I'll meet you again, Shinra. It won't end so nicely next time." The president tilted his head and smile just a bit wider, showing just a bit more white fang, as if to say, _anytime, my friend._ Lip twitching in irritation, Sephiroth turned to the blonde man on the ground behind Rufus. "And Cloud. Before I go, one last thing."

Pale lips pulled back as Cloud snarled up at Sephiroth. The general smirked and quietly hissed, "Look at your hands. They're covered in her blood."

Almost against his will, Cloud's head dropped to inspect his palms.

It was true.

They were running red…

"And not just her blood," Sephiroth sang. "The blood of hundreds, the blood of _thousands_. The blood of everyone you've killed, of everyone you've touched…You know it, Cloud. You know it as well as I. Those stained hands of yours bring death to everything they touch. Everyone you lay those hands on _will _die. By my sword or your own.

"So by all means, continue to reach out to her, to your friends, to everyone around you." The general sneered as Cloud stared down at his hands, silent. "But remember. Every time you touch her, every time you put those bloody hands on her…she dies a little more."

"_That's enough!_" Shinra snapped, and then he was staring straight up into Sephiroth's face, lips pulled back in what might have been a smile but was more of a snarl, and grey eyes glowed with dull loathing. "I think we've heard enough of your drivel for one day. Get out of my sight, _now._"

A corner of the general's mouth twitched in snide amusement, and Sephiroth gave a mocking bow, cooing, "As you command, President."

Then his teeth were gritting and something dark and horrible stirred in the air, and even Shinra took a few steps back, jaw tense and eyes wide as Sephiroth trembled and the muscles in the general's back rippled like something living writhing underneath his flesh, and then Sephiroth was screaming and something made of flesh and darkness ripped out of his back in a spray of blood and ripping skin—

"One winged angel," the president hissed, and the general smiled.

"See you soon, Cloud."

With that, there was a rush of roaring wind and a tide of black feathers and an explosion of glass as Sephiroth rocketed through the skylight, into the stormy sky.

For a moment, the only sound was Cloud's ragged breathing.

Then the blonde man asked quietly: "So…were you bluffing?"

Whirling on his heel, Shinra laughed once. "Of course! I might be the president, but even _I_ can't muster an army that easily." Leaning down, he offered a hand to Cloud, who glared up at him. "Just be glad, Strife, that I have an _excellent_ poker face."

…

Outside the hospital, Zack and Vincent watched through the window of the trailer as Sephiroth faded into the distance, a tiny black figure against a grey layer of clouds. The two men were silent, quietly grim.

"He'll be back," Vincent stated simply.

"And we'll be ready," Zack growled.

"Hey, Vinnie…"

Both men turned to the girl slowly sitting up from the cot behind them, rubbing at her eyes and pulling the oxygen tube from her nose. Yuffie blinked in confusion as she saw their grim expressions, peering over their shoulders to see the retreating general through the window.

Jaw dropping open in sudden disbelief, she blurted:

"Dudes, did we just _lose_?"

…XxX…

_A/N_

_And there you have it._

_Having essentially ended an arc, I'll probably take a break next week. But never fear, I shall not leave you without anything to read—I'll be posting some character studies that I do when I get writer's block—one of which will hopefully help explain a bit of Cloud's psyche that a lot of you were distressed by—and what I SHOULD be working on is a rewrite of chapters one and two. But I won't leave you hanging for more than two weeks, my loves. I swear, really._

_And one last thing: in a sort of collective review response to all the people who yelled at Rufus for deciding to have story time while Cloud and Tifa were bleeding out of the floor-yes, it probably wasn't the most opportune time, but if he hadn't distracted Sephiroth right then, the general probably would have gone around and just killed everybody. So ultimately, it was necessary. Sorry anyway...  
_

_Please please please review, angels._


	28. The Dream Dies

**Review Responses:**

**WhimsicalInTheBrainpan**: Thank you very much for your review, and I do share your sentiments. I promise, Cloud WILL get his CMOA before this is over. If he didn't, I would cry. Also, your vote has been taken into account. One vote for chainsaw-hand. **ken08002**: Because he's Sephiroth, that's why. And yeah. Rufus never makes sense. **Kurogane7**: Well, Vince is really mostly Wutai…I have no idea his actual descent, so that probably made no sense…oh dear. And yes. The battle is not over until our dear darling general is dead.** kerapal bubbles**: Trust me, he troubles me just as much as he troubles you. Also, this story is not ending any time soon. Look forward to it! **ohsnapples**: Bad Sephy indeed. Someone slap him. **vLuna**: Yay! I was worried it would come across as too much of an infodump. And of course he must, otherwise he wouldn't be Sephiroth. **PhsycopathicHeartbeat**: He likes his speeches indeed, the liar. And butt-kicking is in store. Eventually. **Shadow of the Forgotten Ones**: Indeed, for Yuffie is pure awesome. **Darkhorse666**: Darling, have I mentioned I love you? Also, Shinra is SO sexy. Please. **zodious**: Hey, thanks for joining in! I'm glad you like the story so far! **Lady Foxtrot**: As usual, darling, your reviews leave me giddy. Rufus has very much so pulled off the impossible—with style. Also, his motivations are not yet to be revealed…ssshh…Also, no. I'm afraid there is no convenient meteorite to strike Sephy. DANGIT. And yeah, we all love Yuffie. **NamioftheSea**: His issues aren't really resolved yet, but he might be vaguely pointing in the right direction of a starting point nowadays. **SorrowsFlower**: "twisted love" indeed. I'm so insanely overjoyed you caught the childishness in Cloud! In a lot of ways, he still looks at Tifa like he did as a child—his whole adolescence got lost in translation, so he flips a lot between little-boy and grown-man. And your description of Tifa—stronger, yet weak in her need for him—seriously, how do you know my characters better than I do? **Vanilla Raindrops**: I'm afraid it is far, far from over. Shinra is not…ALL bad. Just creepy. But we feel he is vaguely on our side. Also, I'm pretty sure you can just ignore physics when dealing with FFVII. Cough-cutting-through-buildings-with-a-sword-cough.

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Dream Dies

_(Insert clever disclaimer here.)_

She's dreaming in the dark.

And she knows she's not alone.

Because even when she had wrapped herself in shadows and hid from everything that frightened her, she hadn't been alone.

A single golden candle with a blue-bright heart flickered in the dark.

Closer and closer.

Something massive and golden and bright as flame, something with long claws and sharp teeth and hair like yellow fire and a long throat to distort the howl that still came out sounding like her name.

_Tifa…_

Something with paradise blue eyes…

Tifa turned in the darkness and saw the great golden wolf with eyes as endlessly blue as the noon sky, and she smiled even as the tears welled up against her will. Then she was wrapped around the beast, fingers buried deep into thick coat and face pressed into the coarse ruff, sucking in deep breaths of dander and lightning wind and fire as the wolf nuzzled her neck, hard, panting with joy as she coughed out tear-choked laughs into his fur.

"You were always here, weren't you?" she hummed, leaning back to scratch carefully at the base of the wolf's neck. Tongue lolling out in satisfaction, he released a quiet rumble by way of answer. Tifa chucked again and scratched harder as he leaned in to lap messily at her face.

Laughter fading, she sighed and hugged him close, resting her cheek against the wolf's ear, his fur coarse yet soothing against her skin. She rubbed her face into that calmingly real roughness, and whispered softly:

"Can you take me back?"

A quiet, mournful howl rumbled in the wolf's chest as he rose to his feet, nudging at the underside of Tifa's chin with his nose, encouraging her to stand as well. She stood slowly, placing one hand on the wolf's shoulder—and he was a massive thing, shoulder on level with her own, and she knew wolves didn't really get that big but she didn't question it here, because it wasn't just a wolf. It was…

"Take me back to the beginning, Cloud."

…

_They're beating someone up again._

_She recognizes the local gang of bullies as they surround a smaller boy, and even from across the street she hears them yelling slurs—"bastard," "fatherless," "son of a whore." The boy doesn't flinch away from the blows, but he whimpers each time they insult his pride, and before long he's in a tight ball on the ground, hands over his ears and trembling as the bullies laugh and beat against his back._

_Then she's across the street and soft little hands deliver a few neat slaps to heads and shoulders and the hands that reach out to strike the boy again, and every one of the bigger boys recognizes her, and her glare is only met with ducked heads and scuffling feet as she scolds:_

"_Five to one, aren't you big strong boys? What's he done to hurt you, hm?" Narrowed eyes sweep the circle again, and no one meets her eyes or says a word. She clucks her tongue and shifts her weight on to one foot, practically a mirror image of the scolding mother, only at age six instead of thirty. "Go home and tell your mommies what bad children you've been," she commands, and feet scuff the ground reluctantly, as several of the boys consider leaving but don't break rank. Her eyes narrow again and she plants her hands on her hips petulantly, glares harder, and orders: "Go home!"_

_With a few muttered grumbles, the bullies scatter, and she maintains her scowl at their retreating backs, making sure they're well and gone before she turns to the boy on the ground behind her._

_He's a little thing, shorter than her and pale and pretty like a girl, and the blonde spikes and the blue eyes are instantly recognizable as she exclaims, "Hey, you're the boy who lives next door to me!"_

_The boy dabs at his split lip in confusion and mumbles something quietly, averting his eyes to stare at his hands, and tries again to wipe the blood from his chin._

_She clucks in a near-perfect imitation of her mother and goes down on a knee, fishing her handkerchief out of the pocket of her dress to dab at the bleeding lip for him, holding his chin in one hand to keep him from turning away. "Why don't you ever fight back?" she scolds, blotting another cut above his eyebrow, and he tries to duck his head again but her hand keeps his chin from tucking, so he just averts his eyes and mumbles something under his breath. She sighs and wipes some dirt off his cheek, pushing his disorderly spikes out of the way. "You're so funny-lookin', of course they're gonna pick you out to pick on. I mean, you're totally tiny. And what's with the funky blue eyes? And the hair!" she exclaimed, making wild gestures into the air above her head. "You trying to pick up alien transmissions with that stuff? You're so spiky, you look like a porky-pine."_

"_Porcupine," he mumbles quietly, and she whaps him on the head, huffing self-importantly._

"_That's what I said! Porky-pine!"_

"_But it's a porcupine…"_

_Folding her arms stubbornly, she smiles abruptly down at him, the change in her mood throwing him off-balance again. "See, spike, 's not so hard to stand up to people, is it?"_

_He blinks a few times in baffled astonishment._

_Sighing again, she stands and dusts off her dress, and he looks up at her with wide blue eyes. One hand goes out to him, extended easily, and he for a moment he only stares at the outstretched fingers before looking up at her questioningly._

"_I'm not gonna let them beat on you anymore, so you hafta be my friend, 'kay?" She commands, and he stares blankly for a moment before breaking into the widest smile she'd ever seen him wear, two teeth missing and just a bit of an overbite, and she giggles as he takes her hand with a fervent nod._

"_So, spike, what's your name? If we're friends I gotta know your name."_

"…_Cloud. I'm Cloud Strife."_

"_And I'm Tifa Lockhart, nice ta meetcha."_

_Her handkerchief is clutched in his left hand, and his right is wrapped tight around hers, squeezing like he's never going to let go._

…

He wanted to touch her.

"_Every time you put those bloody hands on her…"_

He wanted to touch her.

"_She dies a little more._"

_I CAN'T._

She stirred slightly, shifting her hips and stretching her throbbing back, and as she settled again she released a sigh that sounded like his name.

And he leaned a little closer, hand clenched into white-knuckled fists around the posts of the bed, and her name dropped from his lips, and there was no way for him to say it without it sounding like a caress, soft and sweet and pleading—

"Tifa…?"

The smile that curved her lips was warm and a little smug and a lot tender, and her voice was slow and drowsy, gently teasing when she spoke: "Cloud…hey there, spike…"

Breath sucked in through his teeth, and he repeated the nickname, quiet and horrified. "Spike…?" He leaned in close, just a breath away from her face, and asked desperately: "Tifa, how old are you?"

Brows knitting slightly, response slow and fogged with sleep, she hummed, "Twenty." His panic eased for a moment, until she sighed again and continued. "But once…once, I dreamed I was six…"

_She remembers._

His head fell to _thunk_ quietly against the side of the bed, and the laugh that fell out of him was wry and bitter, self-deprecating and hollow as he muttered into the mattress.

"So, in the end, all I can leave you with is memories…?"

Groggy but still hearing, even if she was too drowsy to fully comprehend, Tifa hazily latched on to the one word that stood, stark and horridly _wrong_ in the middle of his sentence: "Leave?" she whimpered, and then she was struggling to move, to push herself up off the bed, hissing as the motion jarred her back, but she still spoke through the tears: "Please…please don't leave…don't go again…!"

"Hush," he cooed as gently as his impending panic would allow, standing to bend over her and give her more of his body heat, let her feel as much of his presence as she possibly could. "Hush, it's all right. Don't move. Don't open your eyes. It's all right, I promise."

Whining unhappily, Tifa settled slowly back into her pillows, eyes still closed, but tense with worry. "'S _not_ all right if you're gone again…"

Groaning, Cloud tightened his grip on the bedpost; fighting down every instinct that told him to hold her, stroke her hair, touch her cheeks, just reach out to give them both the surety of physical presence. That was it, he knew—that was exactly why he had to…

"Can't you see, don't you understand, Tifa?" He sighed, breath a hot wash over her face, her own exhale ghosting over his cheeks in a warm rush. "I can't stay here. I'll go insane if I stay here. I can't touch you. _I can't touch you._ And I want to, so badly. I want to touch you…" His voice faded away, from a sigh into a groan into gravel in his throat, and saying the words only made the longing worse, only made the deep, ingrained drive to touch fiercer.

"Ever since I was five, I've wanted to touch you…and then, I was seven and you took my hand for the first time…" The words were a breath against her skin and nothing more, barely audible even in the dead silent room. "Don't remember it, I'm begging you. _Don't remember_. These memories of me…they won't bring you anything but pain, so please…please don't remember…"

Her brow eased slightly, the unhappy curve of her lips losing its tension as she spoke: "I remember…there was a dream…"

Nodding slightly, his next words came out a heartbroken smile. "It's only a dream, Tifa. It'll be gone by morning. Just like me…"

Then her frown was back full force, lips stubborn and pouted out like a child, and he had to wonder for just a moment, was this his twenty-year-old Tifa or her six-year-old memory—

"I remember a dream where Cloud leaves…" she sighed.

His teeth ground in the back of his throat, he breathed hard into her throat, groaning: "No, Tifa. The dream is where I stay. I'll always stay in your dreams…until the day you ask me to leave…So don't open your eyes, please. Let the dream last, at least until morning…"

Answering smile sloppy with quickly resurging sleep but as brilliant as that first Nibelheim day, she mumbled blearily: "An' you'll stay…?"

Moving forward just a little bit, he held himself just the slightest fraction away from her, his mouth a hair's breadth from hers, and in his mind he tore at himself, begged for it, for one thing with which to leave them both…

_First kiss, only kiss…please…_

_I can't._

_I can't even kiss her goodbye?_

Drawing back took every bit of strength he had in him, but he stood slowly and pulled the covers over her tightly, to keep her warm without his body heat, and answered in a whisper.

"Until the dream dies…"

…

He closed the door to the hospital room as quietly as possible, exhaling heavily as the latch clicked into place nearly silently. Rubbing a hand over his aching forehead, he turned away, gut tense and aching, wounds and body and heart protesting violently.

"I _know_ you're not thinking of sneaking off all on your own."

Head snapping up, blue eyes swept the darkness to find Zack, leaning casually against the wall next to the door, inspecting something small and silver held in his palm.

"Zack," he sighed, slumping against the door, worn. "You can't stop me from going."

"Who said I was going to stop you?"

Cloud blinked a few times in surprise as the soldier tossed and caught the objects in his hand, the picture of carelessness. "But you—"

Grinning, Zack caught the metal pieces one-handed, then extended a closed fist to Cloud. "I never said I wouldn't let you go. I said you shouldn't be thinking of sneaking off on your own."

For a moment, there was stunned silence, before Cloud blurted: "But—c'mon, man, you have Aerith and—"

"And you have Tifa," Zack interrupted, glare pointed in the darkness. "But that's not stopping you."

"Zack, I'm not getting you involved in my problems."

Clucking teasingly, Zack sighed dramatically. "Well, technically you're still under my command, so I could just order you to take me with you…but it's not like you'd listen to me anyway," he amended as Cloud gave him a flat stare. "Look, Cloud, your problems _are_ my problems. Whether you like it or not, I'm your best friend. You have to deal with me."

Shooting him a pointed glare through the darkness, Cloud growled: "If I ran, you'd never be able to follow me."

Zack's response was a quiet chuckle and the chime of metal striking metal. "I highly doubt that…"

…

"You've got the destination," Zack began, sweeping the cloth coverings off two massive machines. "And _I've_ got the transportation."

Cloud whistled low appreciation as he stepped down to examine the two motorcycles, the sleek black monstrosities looking dangerous even standing still. Patting the one nearest Cloud, Zack named it. "Fenrir," he stated simply, then, "Sleipnir." For the other. "I did most of the work myself," he admitted, scratching at the back of his neck. "But some parts I had to get built. Like on Fenrir—" Leaning over, he flipped a switch on the side of Fenrir's gas tank and watched proudly as six slots popped open on either side of the handlebars. "For the sword," he answered Cloud's raised eyebrow. "For _you_."

"Zack…"

"No, Cloud." The soldier's voice was flat and absolute, determined. "I already talked to Aerith. She understands. We're all right. _You're_ the one who's not all right. You're going to need me, Cloud. So I'm coming. I don't need to know where or why, but you're not leaving me behind. And since I doubt you want to feel _me_ up on a daily basis, we clearly won't have much of a touching problem. So quit being a wuss, and let me come with you."

The wry smirk on Cloud's face was only half-forced when he held up a hand to catch the keys Zack threw at his head.

Short minutes later, two motorcycles roared out of the Fair Help Center and vanished into the darkness before dawn.

Long hours later, not so far away, a dark-haired woman opened her eyes.

And the dream dies again.

…XxX…

_A/N_

_You know what sucks? SUMMER HOMEWORK SUCKS SO MUCH. If you want to blame someone for the severe lateness of this chapter, BLAME AP ENGLISH III TEACHERS. *shakes fist*_

_And so, as per usual, I am up at 2 AM, finally inspired, desperate to actually write this before my muse runs away again. Come baaaaack…_

_Also, just because I want to point out my obscene love for parallels again: yes, this is meant to mirror Cloud's leaving in the imaginary spacetime before Advent Children._

_I think I hate myself for introducing something that doesn't actually exist in the series…but Zack does nick a motorcycle at one point, so BAH. Also, for name-background, Sleipnir is an 8-legged horse in Norse mythology. He's one of Loki's children, and Fenrir's half-brother. I can TRY to tie things in._

_All in all, I apologize for lateness and the fact that updates will probably slow a bit once school starts again, thank everyone for their lovely wonderful patience, and beg you all to review. Much love!_


	29. Begin to Heal

**Review Responses:**

**kerapal bubbles**: Your use of emoticons both amuses and touches me. I am flattered, my love. And yes. It will be awesome indeed. Thanks for the review! **ken08002**: NOTHING. There is nothing anyone could possibly want more. **death wish girl**: I'm so happy, really! Thank you for taking so long to read my story, and reviewing, too! **Kurogane7**: Aah, our epic battle is sadly a few chapters away…we have too much angst to work out first. Thanks very much for the review! **vLuna**: I think that may have been the best reason for Cloud to not leave Tifa, EVER. "Who's gonna save his ass?" BRILLIANT. **riceball793**: Isn't he just…I desperately love young Tifa and Cloud, look forward to reappearances! **SorrowsFlower**: I'm so glad you stayed up late just to review! I'm sorry I stole your idea…I always imagine Tifa as very maternal, no matter her age, and I've somehow never really seen her as refined. She punches too many things for that. Oooh, I'm glad you like my line. It gets a reappearance just for you. And he was never going to get to kiss her. 'Cause I'm mean. Thanks very much! **sasusakufan2357**: Slap AND hug him! Sorry the update took so long, and thanks for the review! **Lady Foxtrot**: I'm afraid I'm too tired to respond to every lovely point in your long and lovely review, but it was an AWESOME review and I love you to pieces. Thank you, darling. And this chapter was named because of what you said in your review for chapter 27, actually. It got stuck in my mind. **ohsnapples**: Here, update, especially for you. Thanks for reviewing! **NamioftheSea**: Mindbending indeed. Sadly, Tifa does not go ballistic…although that would have been fun… **Darkhorse666**: Such a good line, right? Augh, I'm so skilled. Also, phone sex is the answer to all questions, definitely. Except maybe calculus. Screw my summer homework. **asukacaramel**: Thanks so much for your awesome review! I'm flattered you like my story so much—I always have fun working with these characters, I try so hard to keep them in character. And the disclaimers are always just a bit of humor I have to slap in to keep my darling readers from getting too depressed. Thanks again for reviewing!

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Begin To Heal

_(Someone complimented me on my humorous disclaimers, so of course I can't think of a funny one right now. In any case, I don't own it, la di da, thank you very much.)_

She woke up in the morning with an odd sense of peace.

Because the knowledge was there, like a cold dead place inside her heart, and it made her chest ache but it was an ache she could deal with and an ache she could push down and bear and there was no fervent denial, no pleading cries within her mind, just calm certainty and firm, resilient determination.

Because Tifa Lockhart was a person who never forgot her dreams.

So she woke up with warmth wrapped around both her hands and a smile on her face, because she knew exactly who was waiting for her in the waking world.

"Marlene," she hummed gently, the words hurting her raw and bruised throat on their way out, and heard the little gasp of response, as well as a tightening pressure on her fingers. "Denzel."

Opening drowsy eyes, she looked up into the concerned faces of her little siblings, and smiled a soft little smile, her special smile that said it wasn't quite all right yet, but it would be soon. Denzel looked bleak and miserable and Marlene's lower lip started trembling and it wasn't until Tifa laughed a soft laugh of pain and lifted a hand to cup her baby sister's cheek that the little girl burst into tears and hugged her arm tight and wailed like an infant.

Tifa clucked teasingly and squeezed Denzel's fingers, grinning proudly as he clenched his jaw and refused to burst into tears, because that wasn't manly. "Den," she called softly, trying not to work her throat too much. "Come over here and help me sit up." Both children immediately opened their mouths to protest, but Tifa shushed them before they could even begin to speak. "How am I supposed to give hugs if I can't sit up, hm?"

Half-smiling reluctantly, Denzel released Tifa's hand and held her shoulder to help her roll carefully onto her back. She hissed when the movement tightened her skin and stressed the rows of stitches she could feel in her back. Hurriedly propping her up with a pillow, Denzel looked miserably up at her as she gritted her teeth and gave him the best smile she could manage, leaning in to wrap an arm around his shoulders and kiss his forehead as Marlene clambered up onto the bed to hug her knees.

"Hey, now," Aerith protested halfheartedly from the door, leaning a hip against the frame. "You're not supposed to be moving yet, you know." Tifa's only response was a scornful snort, making Aerith smile unwillingly as she walked in for her own hug.

"How long was I out?" Tifa asked quietly, squeezing Aerith's hips.

The older girl sighed and backed away, resting a hand on Tifa's good shoulder. "Well, Shinra's doctors had you in surgery for a few hours right after the fight, then you were sedated for a solid day and a half. You came out of that and kind of half-woke-up yesterday night. But before long you went back to sleep on your own, and then you slept through most of today, so all told you've been out for about three days."

Groaning, Tifa leaned her head back into the pillows. "Well, I guess it's a new record." When Aerith lifted an eyebrow, Tifa continued, "I was in a week-long coma after I first got this scar, the night Nibelheim burned."

Aerith's mouth half-opened to speak, but Tifa interrupted her before the words came: "Never mind me, Aerith, are you okay? What about Vincent and Yuffie, are they all right? And Zack, and the brothers, is everyone still okay?"

With a sigh, Aerith perched on the end of the bed, massaging Tifa's feet idly through the sheets. "The brothers…joined Sephiroth halfway through the fight." At Tifa's shocked expression, she explained quietly: "No one's sure, but Shinra is thinking it's because they're some of Hojo's experiments, too. They're Sephiroth's genes to begin with, so we aren't sure if they even had a choice about joining him. But whether it was their own will or not, they're dangerous now, so Shinra took them into custody. They're in some other jail now, but…without me, I…I don't know how they'll do."

Then there was a hand wrapped around each of Aerith's and two pairs of wide child's eyes staring up at her as Denzel and Marlene both offered comfort in the same selfless way that their whole family did. The children gave Aerith their trademarked brave little smiles and it made Tifa's heart swell full of family pride in her chest and Aerith smiled a fragile smile of her own in return. With a deep breath, she continued.

"Zack, well—he's Zack, you know? Loz managed to hit one of the major nerves in his left arm with a serious amount of electricity. His whole arm was dead for a few hours afterward, but once he got sensation back—you wouldn't know it had ever happened. He's—gone on a road trip, I think. He left the night you woke up."

And then it was Tifa's turn to be quiet and smile the smallest, most fragile smile and stare at her hands and whisper. "Yeah…I know."

Because Tifa Lockhart never forgot her dreams…

The silence hung thick and heavy in the room for a moment before Tifa shook her head carefully, smiled wider and more honestly, and asked, "And Vincent, and Yuffie? Are they all right?"

Wincing visibly, Aerith squeezed the children's hands tighter and sighed. "Vincent and Yuffie, well…"

…

"No. No, no, no, no, NO! Not okay, dude! This is NOT okay! I don't want it and you can't make me!"

"Yuffie."

"Don't you 'Yuffie' me, Vince! This is—hey, hey, don't think I don't see you three, doctor-people, and I won't—AUGH! Put me down! Put me down, you stupid white-coat wearing eggheads, PUT ME DOWN!"

"Yuffie, you are making an unnecessary fuss."

"No, I am making a totally necessary fuss. Come ON, help me out here, what kind of boyfriend are you? GAH! Doc, don't you dare put me in that thing! Hey! I said don't you dare! I'm about to open a can of ninja whoopass on you if you try to put me in that! Lemme GO! Can't I refuse treatment or something? DNR! I need a DNR!"

Vincent sighed, amber eyes going stern and reproving. "Yuffie, calm down and do as the doctors tell you. It is only a wheelchair."

Pouting up at him from where three doctors were holding her in the chair—one of whom was rather desperately trying to stabilize her legs—Yuffie made her best sulking face, wailing: "It's not 'only' anything, Vince. It's ONLY a torture device. It's ONLY the most undignified thing I've ever ridden in. It's ONLY a freaking _wheelchair._"

For a moment, he caught and held her eyes.

Beneath the gentle bleeding plum, he saw her annoyance, her overdramatic refusal, her habitual defiance—and if it was just that he would have scolded her and told her to do as the doctors told her—but somewhere beneath her gaudy and overemphasized emotions he found something real. Real hurt, real denial, and maybe even the sharper edges of real terror, real horror.

And he could have passed that off as a mistake, an illusion—

But Yuffie had a long history of hiding her hurt behind laughter and smiles, and if she was finally showing him when she needed him—how could he turn her away?

So he sighed and sat up with a half-smirk twisting the corners of his lips, waving off the instantly fretting doctors.

"Mr. Valentine, sir, you're really not supposed to be moving yet—you're still recovering from a major loss of blood and traumatic injur—"

Vincent turned and glared pointedly at his doctor.

The man swallowed, took two steps back, and didn't speak again.

"Hospital beds," Vincent stated, half to the air, half to the people in the room. "Do not suit me." Carefully, he lifted himself out of the cot with his right hand, trying not to jostle the useless stump of his left arm where it was bound against his chest. Standing for a moment, he swayed gently, trying to reassert his balance with the significant lack of weight on his left side. At length, he was satisfied with his bearings, and bent to offer his right hand to Yuffie.

"And that wheelchair," he added with a slight smirk, "Does not suit you at all, my little ninja."

Her grin was blinding as she clutched at the hand he held out, and he gave her his softest not-smile in return and swung her onto his back as the doctors shrieked protests.

She tucked her arms around his shoulders and clung tightly to his hips with her thighs as he kicked open the door to the hospital wing. "Can you hold on?" He asked quietly. She snorted in his ear in reply.

"I just can't straighten my knees. Inner thigh movement is a whole different muscle group. And I do still have my arms."

"Please do not choke me," he warned, and placed his hand high on the back of her thigh to heft her higher on his back. Yuffie giggled scandalously and hugged his shoulders tightly, resting her cheek against the side of his head, idly watching the hallway doors pass.

"What about you," she hummed, slowly rubbing her face against the softness of his hair. "You sure you're okay carrying me like this?"

He scoffed quietly. "Yuffie, you weigh next to nothing."

"Aww, flatterer."

"Besides," he rumbled, pausing and tilting his head back so she could press her cheek to his. "I promised, did I not? That I would always be here to carry you."

"…"

"Yuffie?"

"Shut up. I'm not blushing. Don't look."

"Yuffie."

"Oh, just—just shut up and kiss me already."

…

Shinra was shuffling his cards.

Tseng tried not to turn around as the telltale sound filled the room. His headset blocked out most of the background noised, but Rufus kept moving closer and closer, as if to ensure that the Turk could hear the distinctive flutter of the small papers. He knew the sound sent chills down Tseng's spine.

"I miscalculated," he heard the President mutter, half to himself, half to Tseng. "It won't happen again."

The Director sighed quietly and tried harder to ignore the malignant aura his boss was exuding.

Nothing good ever came of Rufus shuffling his cards.

…

Cloud slept on top of Fenrir. Fenrir was nice to sleep on top of. At night, it was warm from a day of riding, and cool and refreshing against his cheek by morning. He could lean forward or back against the massive bike, and the blanket and pillow Zack had thoughtfully packed before their departure made the whole arrangement rather comfortable. He probably would have been extremely comfortable if it weren't for all the half-healed wounds perforating his body.

He knew Zack didn't like him sleeping on Fenrir. Zack had packed more than just blankets and pillows—sleeping bags and even food stores were stuffed into the storage compartments of the massive motorcycles. Zack set up a camp and lit a fire and made food when they stopped for the night, and Zack rolled out a sleeping bag and tried for all the world to pretend like he was just going on another camping trip.

They both knew it wasn't.

There were mountains starting to loom on the horizon. Another day's travel would probably have them at Cloud's destination. Looking at the hazy peaks in the distance somehow managed to make Cloud nostalgic and nauseous at the same time. He turned around and slept facing the other direction.

His lung wasn't fully healed yet. If he threw up, there'd be blood.

And the cut on his left arm wasn't closing properly. He wasn't sure if Shinra's surgeons had botched the job, or if it had just been an ugly cut to begin with—but it wasn't binding up like the rest of his wounds were. Hojo's treatments had him healing at an impossible rate, but it still wasn't enough. By all rights, he should have been bedridden and on antibiotics and having his every bodily function fully tracked and logged and measured and calculated. Even as fast as he healed, he was fragile.

So, so fragile…

He knew he wasn't running towards a destination.

But Zack didn't say anything and that was why Zack was his best friend, because Zack was easy and accepting and would never push him for answers they both knew he didn't have. So Zack offered cheerful friendship and unspoken acceptance and left him to his own thoughts at night.

He knew he was only running away.

_Tifa…_

The name hovered on his tongue, tempting him to let it fall from his lips, but he swallowed it down and held it like a warm weight inside his stomach, because he knew—

Edge was only a day's ride away—

If he said the name now, he'd turn back. Go back. The threat lingered like a thick mist on the edges of his mind, refusing to abate, ever-present. The Fair Help Center was somewhere in that mist, calling him back, promising him friends and security and soft hands and dark hair and crimson wine eyes and—

_Love._

And Sephiroth's words stayed wrapped around that mist, preventing him from entering.

_By all means, continue to reach out to her, to your friends, to everyone around you. But remember, every time you touch her, every time you put those bloody hands on her…she dies a little more._

So he gritted his teeth and stared at the stars and refused to say the name that hung eternally on his lips.

_Tifa_.

…

_Cloud…_

Somewhere on the other side of consciousness, there was a wolf waiting for her.

_I'll always stay in your dreams…until the day you ask me to leave._

…XxX…

_A/N_

_Rufus is shuffling his cards._

…_Now might be a good time to run away._

_Sorry to everyone who expected Tifa to pitch a fit at Cloud's leaving. She's going to explain herself a bit next chapter._

_And some Vincent and Yuffie fluff, because I know we're all worried about our darlings. Oh, and the kids. 'Cause I love the kids. Yay!_

_Review, my loves? Please, please, please?_


	30. Cookies

**Review Responses:**

**ken08002**: Thanks, I love writing Yuffie. I realized it after I cut her legs—no way is she staying in a wheelchair. **Kurogane7**: Our epic battle is still a ways off, but there are some fight scenes coming—probably—so keep your fingers crossed for those… **Darkhorse666**: Yuffie indeed. Shinra is so much love. And I think you just redefined basic math. **TenkaCat**: Well thank you very much for reviewing even though you're tired! Rufus makes everybody nervous—and I know, Cloud is a sweet, although he is stupid. STUPID. I'm glad you liked it! **kerapal bubbles**: Marlene is such a sweet. I love…Glad you like my Yuffentine—without their fluff this story would just be too depressing. **thetoph333**: Hah—not yet, my friend, not yet. I'm sorry if I made you cry! Thank you very much for your review! **sasusakufan2357**: Yeah, I implied death for about a line before giving fluff. And please slap him. PLEASE. Someone needs to… **kitty materia princess**: Love the new name, girl. Glad you like the Yuffentine and the sexy-angsty-Spikes. So yummy… **Lucifer xxx**: Well I'm glad you like it! And Rufus is freakin' scary. He scares me, too. Donna: HAH. Heck yes, man! Thanks for the review! **SorrowsFlower**: I know, those kids make my life every time they show up. Naturally he's not going to have a reality-basted prosthetic, but that's quite the coincidence. About Yuffie—Yeah, Seph basically pulled some microsurgery with the sword. He made a very neat, VERY shallow transverse cut—he didn't actually cut ALL the way through the muscle, just most of the way, and the rest tore when she tried to move. I actually intended it to show how skilled he was—that he could pull of a cut that precise at any given moment. And Tifa's really not a fit-thrower, is she? Much too grounded. Awesome review, thank you! **vLuna**: HAH. YES. Sorry, you made me laugh for a solid five minutes. Thanks for the review! **Lady Foxtrot**: Oh, my beloved, ANY review is a good review, no matter how late. The dentist coincidence is a bit odd, I must say…Sorry I ruined your rep, girl. Rufus is pretty epic, isn't he…I can try, at least…And now that you mention it, I can see Zackie as a Boy Scout. It'd be just like him…I'm so glad you like my Cloud—I never tire of torturing him. I don't know why you're in a wheelchair, but I'm so sorry and I hope you're all right! Reviewing hardly takes priority in times like that, so don't worry about it, okay? And by the way…did I win the staring contest?

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Thirty: Cookies

_(Disclaimers are like cookies—you can never have too many, but they're a pain to make and enough of them will make you explode.)_

There is a place, halfway between the opposite ends of a dream.

In that place, a wolf and a girl sleep.

And dream…

…

_He'd already gone back. Three times._

_The first time she was there and her arms were open and her eyes welcoming and every part of her there and waiting for him and only him._

_But that wasn't her. She wasn't like that. He didn't want her like that. Mindless and unconditionally accepting. That wasn't her._

_So he left again._

_The second time she was there, but she wasn't. The second time he went back he found her wrapped in the arms of another man, a faceless stranger who held Marlene's hand and patted Denzel's shoulder and shook Barret's hand proudly, someone who stood next to Tifa and had every right to be there._

_But that hurt too much to consider. Too much too comprehend. That someone else could be what he couldn't. Someone else could be…enough._

_So he left again._

_The third time…she was gone._

Every time you touch her

_And the halls of the Help Center were black and mourning, and even Yuffie remembered how to cry…_

Every time you put those bloody hands on her

_And he leaned over her casket and kissed her cold lips, and the mourners of the world held him in their eyes and whispered, _your fault.

She dies a little more.

_So he left again._

And he woke up cold.

Fenrir's gas tank was slick with morning dew; his breath and body heat not enough to warm the chill metal. Staring into space for a moment, he whispered,

"I can't go back…"

"Oh, you up, Cloud?"

Zack knocked on the gas tank next to his head, grinning cheerfully. Cloud blinked a few times, groaned, and sat up carefully, stretching his shoulders. "'Bout time," Zack sang, doling out a cup of coffee. "Come on, up and at 'em. Don't we have a road to hit or something? I'm following _you_, dude."

Grunting in response, Cloud took the tin mug Zack offered, inhaling a long pull of the coffee before nearly gagging on the bitter contents. He glared petulantly up at Zack. "Bad black coffee? Seriously? Are we cowboys now?"

"No, but this was all I had on short notice. I don't even know how old this crap is…still, it's a hell of a pick-me-up. And besides," Zack boasted, raising his mug flamboyantly. "Real men have no need for cream and sugar!"

"Please don't use me to indulge your stupid masculine ego," Cloud grumbled, swallowing the rest of the drink with a single gulp and a grimace. It was among the more disgusting things he'd drunk in recent years, but it was caffeinated and hot and made him feel a little more awake and a little bit less cold. Glaring at the brown dregs clinging to the bottom of his cup, he shrugged and threw the empty mug at Zack's head, who caught it without looking up from his own drink.

"Someone's a princess in the mornings," Zack teased, tucking the empty cup into one of Sleipnir's saddlebags. When Cloud snorted in response and began to adjust into a riding position, nestling his feet onto their pegs and adjusting his hands on the grips, his friend made a distressed noise around a full mouth and threw a plastic baggie to him. Catching it by reflex, Cloud stared at the contents with a mix between horror and bitter nostalgia, hardly hearing when Zack explained, "Aerith would kill me, but I love having dessert for breakfast—they're just store-bought, so they probably aren't much better than the coffee, but you need to eat _something_, Spike."

He grit his teeth against the desire to crush the bag in his hand and throw it onto the road to be ripped to shreds. "Not hungry."

"Bull. Come on, would you eat? You need calories, man. They're for you, Cloud…"

…

_Her hands were coated in something thick and sticky and delightful. _

_She had only just started to push pudgy fingers into her mouth to taste when someone laughing and warm and wonderful grabbed her hands and stuck them under running water and rinsed all the thick-sticky-delightfulness away. Pouting, she looked up at the warm wonderful woman and gave her best puppy eyes, and the woman laughed and obligingly held out just one fingertip coated in the sticky delight, and Tifa squealed and scraped the treat into her own hands and lapped it joyously off her palms._

_It tasted thick and sweet and impossibly delicious._

_And she looked up from her licked-clean hands to grin beatifically up at the warm wonderful woman and sing: "Thank you, Mama!"_

_Then those beloved beautiful hands picked her up and sat her next to the sink and then she had to be bored for a while as a thick delicious scent that smelled like her thick sticky delight had tasted, and her mommy was washing things in the sink as she drummed her heels against the cabinet and made little musical patterns to make her mommy laugh._

_Because when mommy laughed it was like sunshine and warm sweet sticky things and it made her toss her head back and all her black hair would go swinging and shaking like a crow's wing, and when she reached out to grab handfuls of that hair with freshly washed hands mommy only laughed and tickled her nose with the ends of a strand and let her play with her hair as she finished the dishes._

_When all the cleaning was finally done and a trilling beep sounded through the room, her mommy pulled her hair free and went dancing across the room to make the beeping stop and open a little metal door that filled the small kitchen with that thick wonderful scent and a huge wave of heat. She giggled and tapped her heels happily and her mother turned around with a smile brighter than the sunlight pouring through the window and she loved her, loved her, loved her…_

_Then the smile slipped and dropped and her precious mama's dark eyes went a little bit sad and Tifa frowned and turned to look out the window and glare at whatever had dared to make her mommy upset and saw only bright yellow sunlight—_

_And then a particularly spiky bit of sunlight in dark clothes was sprinting away from the window and into the house next door and by the time she had called his name he was back in his yard and his door was already slamming closed, and she pouted a little bit and grumbled, "Speedy, for such a squirt…"_

_By the time she had turned around again her mother had snatched a small basket and was filling it with the warm, sweet treasures they'd just made and when Tifa hopped down from the counter to ask what her mama was doing the woman dropped to one knee and pulled Tifa's handkerchief from the front of her dress and carefully covered the basket with it. Tifa tilted her head as her mother offered the basket with another one of those beloved radiant smiles that made Tifa so happy and made everything all right, and she took the basket from her mother's hands as the woman kissed her nose and sang in that perfect, melodic voice:_

"_Go and share, but don't tell Daddy, okay?" Mama held out her little finger with a grin. "Pinky promise?"_

_Tifa giggled and curled her pinky with her mother's and chimed, "Pinky promise!"_

_Then she was shooting out the door to the soundtrack of her mother's laughter and the warm sweet smell rising from the basket in her arms as she tried to run without spilling and then had to balance the basket on her knee with one hand as she banged on her neighbor's door with the other._

"_Spike! Come out, Spike! You know I just saw you go in there, you can't hide! Come on, come out! I have a present!"_

_When the door didn't budge, she sighed and pounded harder, yelling:_

"_Please come out? Come OUT, Cloud!"_

_A moment's silence more and then the door eased open slightly and a pale little face looked out, red with embarrassment and hesitant joy as Tifa pulled the handkerchief off the basket and threw it at his head, holding out the basket and looking—to him—for all the world like an angel carrying down a blessing from heaven as she grinned and tilted her head in a storm of dark hair and sang:_

"_For you, Cloud. Cookies!"_

…

Cloud threw the bag of store-bought, fake cookies at Zack with a little too much force, the plastic slapping harshly against the soldier's hand as he caught it, a little bit shocked. Turning away, Cloud slammed Fenrir into gear, revving the engine restlessly, then sent Zack a pointed glare over his shoulder until the other man sighed and kicked Sleipnir to life as well. Nodding, expression softening slightly, Cloud turned back to narrow his eyes at the horizon over his handlebars, teeth gritted and jaw locked.

He only ate cookies made by real hands.

_Her_ hands…

…

Tifa woke up with a sibling curled on either side of her and Aerith dozing in a chair by the door and she…she wanted to…

Shifting her legs to gently jostle her siblings awake, Tifa grinned eagerly and whispered: "Hey, who wants to help me bake some cookies?"

…

Two hours later found Tifa in the kitchen, standing with only the occasional need to lean on the counter or sit down for a break, flour covering her hands and face and hair, mis-cracked eggs and splattered dough littering the counters of the Help Center's little kitchen. Her little siblings were laughing and taste-testing dough and the cookies set out to cool on the counters and tables, and Aerith sat in the doorway and thought Tifa hadn't looked so content since the day she'd walked through the Fair Help Center's doors.

"You're not even supposed to be moving, yet not only are you fully mobile, you're standing and making cookies…" Aerith tsked from the doorway, and Tifa just looked over her shoulder at the other woman and laughed.

"I've slept enough over the last three days to last me a lifetime. Besides, this totally isn't my fault. I got hit by divine inspiration. The gods wanted me to make cookies today, I'm telling you. Here, the first batch is cool by now," she sang, holding out a platter of cookies. "Nice, basic chocolate chip. Try one."

Rolling her eyes, Aerith slipped one cookie off the plate and took an obliging bite. Then her eyelids were fluttering closed, one hand rising to cover her mouth as she slowly chewed, thoroughly tasting the sweet morsel before swallowing. As the warm aftertaste faded from her mouth, Aerith opened her eyes and smiled blindingly at Tifa, lifting the platter out of her hands. "Teef, I think that cookie was the closest thing I've tasted to heaven."

Tifa shrugged with a blush, accepting the compliment without denying it for modesty, because it was true—Lockhart cookies really _were_ the best.

Carefully balancing the full plate, Aerith nudged the door open with a hip, winking mischievously at Tifa. "I'll be confiscating these—since you shouldn't be moving around and making these in the first place—and distributing them among everybody. Waste not, want not, right? Right. And you are _absolutely totally_ _forbidden _from making any more. Nope, no more baking for you. You have to go back to bed now. Definitely."

Snorting, Tifa threw a handful of flour at the closing door, and Aerith laughed melodiously as she pranced down the hall, careful not to spill her plate of cookies. Tifa turned around with a smile and helped Marlene move the sugar cookies to the cooling tray so Denzel could put the dark-chocolate-macadamia-nut batter on a baking sheet and start the next batch of Lockhart family cookies.

…

The first half of Tifa's batch went to Vincent and Yuffie, who took the cookies as a grateful break from Yuffie's rehabilitation—endless repetitions of her trying to straighten her leg as Vincent took most of the weight of her calf, letting her lift only a small part of the weight. Aerith smiled as she watched them bicker—or, rather, Yuffie bickered and Vincent watched her fume with a mixture of amusement and affection—and was exceptionally glad they had Vincent to help her with her rehab, because no one else on the earth would have enough patience.

So the cookie break came as a welcome opportunity to pause for a moment, let Yuffie catch her breath, and take in a few much-needed calories. Yuffie laid back on her bed, humming and cooing approval of Tifa's work, and Vincent murmured quiet assent, his feet propped up next to hers.

Pausing mid-praise, Yuffie's smile suddenly faltered and slipped off and she murmured softly: "…Where do you think Spike and Zack went…?"

Vincent sighed gently and leaned in to wipe a smear of chocolate from the corner of Yuffie's mouth. "I could not say…they will go wherever Strife needs to go. I think, perhaps, he would have gone mad if he had stayed here. Don't doubt them, Yuffie. Fair, at least, has everyone's best interests at heart."

Blinking at him, a little surprised, Yuffie hesitantly asked, "And—and Cloud doesn't? You don't think he cares about us?"

"No, no, that isn't what I meant." Vincent shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "Strife…I know he cares for us all…but that may be a liability rather than a comfort to him right now. If he truly believes he spreads death with his hands…I do not think he would be able to endure the strain. The loneliness…I am sure Strife cares for us. But at this time, his focus is inward—he is searching for something inside himself…searching for an answer, for a reason…"

Silence settled over the pair, heavy and somber, not uncomfortable but quietly contemplative as each tried to digest what had been said.

Yuffie pouted at the cookie in her hand, sighed, and asked: "Hey, Vincent, will you take me on a trip, too?"

Raising an eyebrow, Vincent smiled ever so slightly. "Where would you like to go?"

"Um…" Yuffie turned the cookie over in her hands, refusing to meet his eyes. "Well…there's…I'd like to visit a grave…"

…

Aerith took the rest of Tifa's first batch to Shinra.

The President shuffled his cards between his hands and lifted a single eyebrow at her, wordlessly. Lifting her chin a little bit, Aerith stated defiantly, "Tifa's making cookies and I thought you and the Turks might like some. She really shouldn't be out of bed yet, you know…" The unspoken request was obvious in her tone, and Rufus smiled a tiny poison smile before looking over his shoulder at the pair standing behind him.

"Rude, would you be so kind as to go and monitor our Miss Lockhart—don't let her overstrain herself, all right?" The bald Turk nodded mutely and left the room without another word.

_Such a cheerful man, that one_, Aerith joked internally, gave Shinra her best smile and turned to follow Rude.

A pale, bony hand caught her wrist, holding her in place. Half-turning back to Shinra, she stared him down cautiously as he lifted steel blue eyes to her face.

"You can be more than you are," he hissed, lifting her hand to his lips. "You can be more than anyone ever was. Let me help you…"

Coaxing a pained smile onto her face, Aerith snapped her wrist out of his grip, hiding her hands behind her back—and out of his reach. "Your offer is much appreciated, President Shinra, sir," She cooed, bowing ever so slightly. "But I am perfectly happy as I am now. I feel no need to change my state of affairs, thank you very much."

She whirled—and for the third time in what was far too little time Rufus had to lean back to avoid being slapped with her braid—and stormed out of the room.

Lightly massaging the aching brow above his ruined eye, Shinra watched her go with a smile that looked like murder. He stole a single cookie from the plate she had left, tearing a bite from it like a wolf tearing flesh from his prey.

Then he went back to shuffling his cards.

Tseng resisted the urge to slam his face against his computer screen.

It was such a _pain_ having a sociopath for a boss…

…XxX…

_A/N_

_My family has a secret recipe for cookies. I made some this weekend. Thus was the whole premise for my chapter set._

_Because I feel like rambling incoherently, I'd like to talk to my best beloveds for a moment about something I've noticed. Since I got really into writing Fair Help, I haven't had time to go hunting for new fics as much—just reading the stuff I have on Story Alert. And over the last few months, more and more of my fics have just…stopped updating. Not ended, just…stopped. It's the most depressing thing. And so, though school has started and chapters are taking me longer to post these days, I want to promise you all—this WILL be finished. These characters are people to me now. I won't leave them without an ending. That's my promise to my beloved characters and my even-more-beloved readers._

_I don't know why I felt the need to say that, but I did. So now you know—don't ever worry. This IS going to be written to the end._

_Oh, one last thing—I, just earlier today—well, technically yesterday, being 1:10 AM—got my FOUR HUNDREDTH review! Heavens above, I don't deserve you all. I love you anyway, though, and I love reviews, so please review, my angels._


	31. Where I Belong

**Review Responses:**

**Kurogane7**: Nah, I fear the end is still a ways off. Too much angst to sort through first. Sorry… **Aosugiru Sora**: Thanks very much, glad you started reading! **ken08002**: I love my chibis, what can I say…thanks for the review! **TenkaCat**: I love his ego, too. Glad you liked the chapter, thanks very much! **NamioftheSea**: YES. Yes he is. And you'll see this chapter… **kerapal bubbles**: I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I like cookies! Glad you like the chapter anyway… **Darkhorse666**: Many things, but NEVER a cookie whore. Also, save the licking for later. Bah. **thetoph333**: I'm glad you liked it! There will be a kiss someday, someday… **Kaotic Krystal**: Indeed, Aerith is a blast. Here, an update, just for you. **Lucifer xxx**: I shall make cookies for all the poor reviewers I made hungry, promise. And somehow Cloud became a cranky morning person… **ohsnapples**: I'm writing, I swear! Spare me, I beg you! Here, I have an update! **vLuna**: But beans are unsexy…Also, yes. Tseng needs far more sympathy than he gets, poor abused thing. **sasusakufan2357**: HAH. He needed that, I swear. I'm glad you like my story, darling. **kitty materia princess**: I promise to keep my promise, promise. Hah. Your fic was really good, keep writing, okay? Much love for you too, darling. **Lady Foxtrot**: Oh, darling, I never mind your late reviews. You've developed a knack for catching me just as I'm running out of inspiration and making me all excited to write again! In any case, I'm glad you're feeling better, darling! Thank goodness you like my memories and dreams, I have too much fun with them and feel like I run off with them…and yes. Rufus is terrifying, and sadly, he's only going to get worse. Also, yesss, staring contest victory! Woooot! And yes, you were my beloved review number 400. You rock, girl!

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Thirty-One: Where I Belong

_(I really, really hate writing these. I don't own it. Seriously.)_

Three days of hard, fast travel had them into the mountains, and Zack knew exactly which mountains and which borders were three days travel from Edge.

_No need for questions._

Zack went on one knee and scraped a handful of dirt from the barren earth.

_No need to ask._

He rubbed the soil between his fingers. It felt like sand and grit and bits of shattered stone.

_You know this place._

He pressed the dirt to his nose.

_Blood and ash and the afterburn of gunpowder and the choking odor of rotting flesh and old corpses half-eaten by gore crows and two-thirds decomposed into nothing but bones bleached white and the eternal, ever-present stink…_

Then he had to drop his hand and go on all fours in the dirt because a wave of nausea stronger than any he'd ever experienced rose up and closed over his head and had bile rising in his throat and flooding his mouth and burning with overflow into his sinuses. He was coughing and choking miserably and Cloud was already there, kneeling by his side, one hand outstretched as if to pat his shoulder or rub his back but they both knew he wouldn't because they both knew Cloud would never touch, so the younger man sat there, helpless to comfort as his best friend vomited violently into the ash and the dirt.

Convulsions finally easing, Zack coughed a few more times and spat viciously, trying to clear the taste from his mouth. Cloud ran to poke through Sleipnir's saddlebags, returning with a bottle of water and handing it to Zack as the older man groaned and leaned against the side of the motorcycle. Zack nodded gratefully as he rinsed out his mouth, spitting the bittered water into the dirt a few times before taking a long, soothing drink.

When the nausea fully subsided and he felt like he could talk without choking again, Zack looked away from Cloud and murmured, "You know where this is, right?"

The blonde man scuffed one foot pointlessly in the dirt. "The battlefield. The front of Sephiroth's war. The killing grounds…"

Zack took another calming swig of water and snarled: "Why did you bring me here…?"

The only response was steel singing against steel as two pieces of the Fusion Sword slid free of Fenrir's sheaths, and for a moment Zack's breath caught and he had to fervently reassure himself that Cloud wasn't _that_ off-balance, wasn't so troubled that he'd really murder his best friend…

Then he heard the footsteps.

Slight reverberations in the ground. The faintest sound of the dry, broken earth cracking. And, even closer, the sound of Cloud's heels grinding into the dirt as a brace and the younger man's low murmuring:

"If you fought long enough, they'd come to get you when you collapsed."

"Cloud?" Zack hissed, slowly easing himself onto his feet.

"But if you didn't, they left you to die…"

Regaining his balance, Zack braced himself against Sleipnir and followed Cloud's gaze into the distance.

They were coming…

"Holy SHIT!"

"_But what about the ones that didn't die?_"

…

Someone was leaving her again.

"You're going _where?_"

Why was everyone she wanted to hold close beginning to slip through her fingers?

"Um…to visit a grave…"

Aerith stared, open-mouthed, at Vincent and Yuffie, mouth working in helpless silence, searching for the right words—for any words—that would make them stay. "But—you—do you really think now is the best time for that?"

"What time could be better?" Whirling, Aerith glared furiously at Shinra, who waved casually from the doorway and stepped into the hall, walk jaunty and effortless despite the still-fresh blind spot from his missing eye. "Frankly, both Valentine and Fair showed more strength than Sephiroth expected in fight—and I know he didn't anticipate that someone so high in the government as me would be involved. He's going to need time and a plan before he attacks us again. In the mean time, it's really quite wise to rid ourselves of emotional baggage and old issues that act as distractions during battle."

Vincent arched a single eyebrow and Yuffie hunkered down behind his shoulders, glaring at the president from around his cloak. Shinra shrugged easily and stepped closer, the picture of calm ease. "Besides, if it's time you're worried about, I'd be happy to lend you a plane and a pilot, to help you cut down your travel time."

Blinking twice, Vincent turned to Yuffie and tilted his head questioningly. She shrugged back and offered a faint smile. Vincent hummed and faced Shinra again. "We'd like to take you up on that, if it's all right."

Jerking a thumb over his shoulder, Shinra sneered. "Talk to Tseng, he'll set you up." Vincent nodded and began to walk away.

Aerith gasped weakly, one hand reaching out to Shinra, one to Vincent and Yuffie, torn halfway between slapping Rufus in the face and seizing hold of her friends and begging them not to leave.

The decision was made for her when Shinra took one more step forward and caught both of her hands in one of his, gripping her wrists with long, pale fingers, and his other hand rose to clap over her mouth, silencing her for the last few seconds it took for Vincent and Yuffie to leave the room, unaware.

She bit his fingers. He hissed and released her mouth, but kept her wrists in his hold, pushing her back against him, her shoulders to his chest and her head pressed to his cheek. Halfway through the deep breath that would soon become a furious shriek, she blinked in surprise as he dropped her hands and wrapped his arms carefully around her waist, hands curving gently around her sides, and his head tilted to rest on her shoulder, his nose pressed to the bend between her neck and collarbone.

"It doesn't have to be this way," he sighed, his breath an oddly cool gust against her throat. "You don't have to be alone. I can protect you…I can give you the power to protect yourself…"

"Enough, Shinra."

Both heads whipped around to see Tifa in the doorway, leaning on the frame for support but still glaring and still furious and still very, very scary. "That's a taken woman you're touching," she warned, lips tight and narrow. "I'd get your hands off if I were you."

Shinra half-smiled, a bit wry and a bit furious, and raised both hands in surrender, taking two steps away from Aerith. Tifa's mouth twitched in irritation and she nodded at the door, eyes unwavering and brows locked in anger. She stepped away from the entrance and ordered, quite flatly: "Get out."

Tilting his head wordlessly, Shinra turned to look at Aerith.

She wrapped her arms around her own waist and refused to look at him.

With a disappointed sigh, Shinra walked past Tifa, meeting her distrustful glare with blank-eyed innocence as he cast one final quip over his shoulder:

"Think on my offer, won't you, Aerith?"

Tifa slammed the door behind him.

And Aerith fell to the ground.

"Aerith!" Tifa cried, crossing the room as fast as she could manage, going to her knees beside the other woman. Aerith had one hand to her mouth, biting hard on her thumb to keep from sobbing, eyes knotted closed as she fought down hysteria. Tifa wrapped her arms around Aerith's trembling shoulders, holding her steady as the slight woman shook quietly. "Aerith…"

"_Why_?" Aerith whimpered, clinging to Tifa's forearm so tightly she left pink half-moon nail marks. "Why are you all right? Everyone—Vincent and Yuffie and the brothers and—and—Zack left me and he left here and you—you—Cloud _left_! He left _you_! He just left you behind like it was nothing at all! He left you behind but you're all fine and smiling and playing with your kid siblings like everything's okay but it's not, it's _not_, and everyone is _leaving!_ _Why are you all right?_"

Tifa breathed out.

…

The ship Rufus lent them was a massive, sleek wasp of a thing, huge and fast and beautiful all at once, and Yuffie whistled and had to tuck her fingers into Vincent's pockets to keep from nabbing every interesting thing they walked past. The pilot of the ship was a blonde, gruff man who kept a cup of tea and a pack of cigarettes on hand at all times and cursed the air blue when he found 'a vampire and a overexcited brat' for his passengers.

For the first time since he'd known her, Yuffie didn't say a word to Vincent for four straight hours. He wasn't sure if he should attribute that to the dark, troubled look on her face, or the fact that said face was rapidly turning green from airsickness.

The vomiting and the somber contemplations kept her silent for the whole trip, and Vincent had never been good at conversation, and found himself sitting helplessly silent as she scowled out the window for ten full minutes, then bending over and throwing up into a bucket.

They reached their destination in less than five hours, though the distance would have taken nearly three days travel by car. Cid handed the controls of the ship over to its namesake—a shy, tiny doll of a woman who moved with more hesitation than anything else—and brought Yuffie down the ladder himself as Vincent stumbled awkwardly down, trying to manage with only one arm and ending up mostly shinnying down the rope. Yuffie just clung, half-ashamed and half-nauseous, to Cid's back and looked miserable.

There was no place to set the ship down in the mountains…

But one hillside, one valley, was familiar.

Cid left Vincent and Yuffie alone there, having the sense and the tact to not follow two people into a graveyard.

It was obviously a war memorial. Half the tombs didn't have names and none had a proper headstone, just messily cut slabs of the crystal quartz that was so plentiful in these mountains with sloppy letters scratched into the faces, some laid flat and some standing erect, without order or sense. Vincent ground his teeth at the carelessness and lack of respect, but Yuffie just kept her head down and lightly touched the headstones that she could reach from Vincent's back.

He began to walk.

Row after row after row of tombs…

And when his legs began to go sore he refused to be angry, because at least all the rows upon rows meant that it hadn't been one mass grave…

So he kept walking.

Row after row after row of graves…

And finally, Yuffie's emotion-darkened voice in his ear called him to a halt.

"Stop here."

He knew what name was going to be on the grave. He knew the overlarge chunk of quartz crystal placed as a headstone. He knew the messy letters, shallowly etched by weakened limbs, carved sloppily through tear-blinded eyes, which marked the face.

He'd put them all there himself.

Lowering Yuffie to the ground, he let her fall to her knees atop the tomb and lean forward to delicately trace the markings.

Then she went flat on her stomach on the ground and nuzzled her face into the earth and spread herself as flat as possible, trying to get as deep into the dirt as she could.

And she whispered:

"Hi, Lucrecia."

…

His head hurt.

His head was aching.

His head was being split in two.

He couldn't feel his fingertips. He couldn't feel his toes. Everything below his knees felt like it was wrapped in layers of cloth and all the sensation that managed to reach it was muted and indistinct.

He looked up at his right-hand-man and half-smiled as the man looked down, no emotion or concern betrayed.

"You remember the promise you made me, Tseng?"

"…So soon, Sir?"

He ground his knuckles into his temples, as if that would somehow make his headache dissipate.

"It's been three years, Tseng. I took too long. We're almost out of time…"

…

"I'm _not_ okay," Tifa whispered, dropping her arms from around Aerith and leaning back to sit, carefully, keeping pressure on her arms to avoid straining her back. "I'm not, not at all."

Aerith bit her lip and drew in a deep breath to calm herself, shook her head once and turned to look at Tifa. "Tifa…Cloud _left_. And I don't know if you're just refusing to acknowledge that or if you're just ignoring it but there's no way you're this okay with it—"

Tifa laughed quietly, shaking her head and looking away, voice soft and more for herself than Aerith when she spoke. "I used to be okay," she whispered, catching the ends of her hair with her hands and gently running her fingers through the strands. "For seven years, I was okay. I lived with my father and my little sister and my little brother and I was okay. I never felt empty. I never felt like there was something missing. People say you're supposed to feel like a part of you is missing, but I never thought so—I was okay. Completely okay. I really was."

Tifa drifted off aimlessly. Aerith opened her mouth, closed it again, and waited for her to continue. After a moment, Tifa sighed and spoke again.

"It's only been twelve days. _Twelve days_. And I was asleep for three of them! Twelve days out of twenty years of life, but somehow I've already convinced myself that I can't live without him. I knew him when I was thirteen…and then for twelve days…"

She bit down on her lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

"I was okay! Seven years and I was okay. Then twelve days changed everything. So what's to say I can't change it back? Can't I be the person I was before? Happy and content and not needing anything besides my baby brother and my baby sister and my father? Why can't I be that again? I never needed him before! I never even knew he existed! I never thought or theorized or wondered or ever even _imagined_ that there was a person named Cloud Strife on this earth! But twelve days—twelve days and he's already…changed me. Something in me. Something that can't live without him anymore.  
"So I had to stop," she murmured, staring past Aerith and into the distance and not even seeing anything. "I had to try and go back. I had to be Tifa Lockhart again. See if I could be that girl that had a family and didn't need anything else. I had to _try_.

"But it's not working, Aerith. He's part of me now. In my dreams. In my heart. I opened it all back up and I let him back in and now I can't get him out. Not anymore. And maybe he was always there, maybe he was always part of me and I was just ignoring him and forgetting about him like everything else—but now he's back and I don't think I can get rid of him again. Not without forgetting my whole life all over again. And I don't _want_ to forget. I don't _want_ to forget him…

"So now I'm waiting," Tifa declared, and her voice was more confident and the smile on her face was a little more real and every part of her was just a little bit more sure. "Now I'm sitting here and I'm healing and I'm putting myself together and I'm trying to get acquainted with this new person, this new Tifa-Lockhart-plus-Cloud. I wasn't lying when I said it to him. I'm not just Tifa anymore. I'm Cloud's Tifa…and for now I'm just taking a breath and trying to get used to that. And then I'm going to sit down and figure out what's best for Tifa-plus-Cloud to do. And _then_ I'm going to do it."

With one last smile, three parts sad and five parts sure and two parts in love, Tifa turned to Aerith and gave the other woman a gentle hug and whispered the last few sentences into her shoulder.

"Don't ask me why I'm okay, Aerith. I'm not okay. More than I should—more than I want to—more than _anything_…I want to see him…"

…

They had human eyes.

Those were hidden behind a mass of teeth that dripped slick spit and claws that were covered in dried blood and flesh that was too puffy or too muscular or just too thick and black and vile, and there was hair there somewhere or everywhere, and no two of them looked the same, and none of them looked like anything resembling a human.

But they had human eyes.

One of them had massive hind limbs but tiny arms, like a t-rex, and teeth at least three inches long and it was drooling green saliva and had something like horns and a mane that didn't quite fit on its distinctly dinosaur-like body. The one next to that had no limbs at all and looked like something green and sick was coating it like the slime off a slug and it just had one round, massive mouth that was filled with layers and layers of teeth like a shark or a leech.

And still they had human eyes.

Zack was holding tight to the Buster Sword and trying not to be sick again. He looked over at Cloud, expecting horror and gritted teeth and preparation—

But Cloud was biting his lip and his brow was folded and it looked for all the world like the man was trying to hold back tears.

"Cloud?" Zack roared over the din that the incoming monsters created.

The blonde man took two steps forward and tightened his fists on the hilt of his swords and pounded his heels into the dirt, preparing for the onslaught as he screamed:

"If you fought long enough, they came to get you when you collapsed. If you didn't, they left you for dead. _But what about the ones that didn't die?_ A prone enemy is no enemy at all and half the time they were just left there on the ground and—and—the treatments needed _limits!_ Rufus is right—they grew like a cancer—and if you didn't get the limiter that was in the injections you'd just keep changing and mutating and growing like a weed, and of course you'd lose your mind from the pain, of course you'd just be a beast, and when your body became like this, who could blame you?"

Vaulting over the motorcycle, Zack dropped and ran to yell in Cloud's ear: "You knew they were here?"

Shaking his head, Cloud paced slowly forward, a slow charge against the rapid approach of the monsters. "I saw a few—on the battlefield, the edges of it, because they ate the corpses, the ones that were already insane—but I mostly just guessed…I mostly just knew, you see, because these—you see, these men here—"

Choking bitterly, Cloud broke off, drawing in a deep breath before speaking again.

"It was just accident of birth," he snarled, wrists picking up slow circles, drawing figure eights in the air with his swords. "Just some obscure genetic tree that gave me a _tiny bit more_ of some damn mutant gene than them! It was only _accident of birth!_ If it weren't for that one little thing—I—"

Zack swallowed down horror and prayed that the next words weren't what he thought they would be.

"Cloud…"

The blonde man turned away from his friend, and the last things Zack saw were blue eyes, dead electric and bottomless pain, and he still looked like he was on the knife-edge of tears—

"If it weren't for some accident of birth, I would be this way, right now. I'm _just like them!_

"These—these are my brothers."

The monsters roared and Cloud's voice rose to scream over them.

"This is my home!"

Then the first of the wave was upon them, and Cloud was already in the middle of the crowd, swords flashing and moving faster than the monsters could track him and slicing things to shreds, but his last scream was all Zack heard as he threw himself sword-first into the fray:

"THIS IS WHERE I BELONG!"

…XxX…

_A/N_

…_I think Cloud needs a hug. Shall we all give him hugs? Tifa, too. Rufus doesn't get hugs, for he is a creeper. SERIOUSLY._

_And Yuffie is going to have a chat with Lucrecia. …This will be interesting…_

_WHY IS EVERYONE BEING ANGSTY? SERIOUSLY!_

_Sorry it took so long, but at least it's a somewhat lengthier-than-normal chapter, right? Oh, gracious, that sounds pathetic even to me._

_Forgive me my lateness and review, my angels?_


	32. Corpse Plains

**Review Responses:**

**ken08002**: I agree, Shinra is in for pain on a massive scale once Zack finds out what he's been up to. Also, Cloud and Tifa need to just hug it out. Definitely. **Kurogane7**: Rufus…I finally got a bit of a hold on his motivations, but he still scares me. And Yuffie's bit is shorter than I wanted it, but I think I did what I wanted to. I hope you enjoy it. **kerapal bubbles**: BHAH. Don't spoil them, now. But yes. Hugs for everybody. **Dannielovessora**: Oh, nonsense. Weird muses make life fun! Yes, I don't write as much Tseng as I'd like to, but he's very 'cool and serious.' I want a bit more of him later. Thanks for the review! **NamioftheSea**: Indeed, Tifa is a wonderful, faithful love, and Rufus is terrifying. SERIOUSLY. **vLuna**: Tifa hugs and cookies = balm to Cloudy's wounded soul. Yay! **sasusakufan2357**: Glad you liked the chapter, and yes, Cloud needed that hug. Thanks very much! **Darkhorse666**: …YOU PERV. Also, I'm flattered, darling. Here, more angst for you. Also, happy? What is this 'happy' you speak of? **kitty materia princess**: Augh, lucky, I need a PS1 so I can play. Yay, I'm glad you liked my "Tifa-plus-Cloud" thing. I thought it was weird, but then it was there, so… In any case, here's an update for you! **Zen**: Thank you very much, I'm glad you like it! **thetoph333**: Aww, thank you for your concern, but I'm really quite fine. I've had this plot planned out for a few weeks now—it's just the story, not me personally. But thank you very much!** Lady Foxtrot**: INDEED. Sweet, glorious angst. I'm glad you like the grave—I couldn't help feeling it was weird, but it wanted to happen. Yes, Zack is always the best. And yeah, I had to give Cid a cameo. Couldn't resist. But I'm afraid Shelke's not going to appear here—I know a lot of people like her, but she kinda irritates me. Aaah, so glad you like Tifa's speech, it was so…random and long-winded, but I wanted to get it said. Have fun with the Rikku cosplay!

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Thirty-Two: Corpse Plains

_(Siiiiiiigh. I don't own Final Fantasy VII, any of the related characters or worlds or whatnot.)_

The crystal was cold underneath her fingertips.

Lucrecia had always been like that. Cold. Hard. Beautiful…

"Why did we come here?"

Vincent's voice was dark and throaty and sounded like something was halfway choking him. Yuffie didn't turn around to face him, just spread both small hands across the face of Lucrecia's headstone and tried to sound as cheerful as she always was.

"I had something to say to her, dummy."

His laugh was somewhere between sobbing and hysteria, and it tinged his voice with bitterness and relief when he finally asked: "What could you have to say to Lucrecia?"

She breathed in.

Breathed out.

"Thank you," Yuffie whispered. "Mostly just 'thank you.' I just wanted to thank her…"

Then she sat up and wrapped her arms around the gravestone and buried her face into those cold crystal edges and dragged herself closer because she couldn't move her legs to crawl. She burrowed in close to the ice and the quartz and pressed her face to the cold and sobbed hot tears against it:

"Thank you." She whimpered, tightening her grip on the crystal until ice edges cut and her hands bled. "Thank you so much for keeping Vincent safe. Thank you for being who you were. I think some of me wanted to hate you because he loved you so much…but if he hadn't loved you then I don't think he'd ever have even looked at me, so thank you for that, too. Thank you for making him happy when I was still young and stupid and I couldn't. For all of that and for everything and for so many things more…thank you…thank you…"

Vincent knelt next to her and swallowed, hard, reaching to lay his hand on her shoulder.

"Yuffie…"

She shook her head without moving and squeezed the headstone again. "Be—before…when she…I—I couldn't do anything but laugh," she sniffled, biting her lip to keep from wailing aloud. "So please…th—this time, let me cry…just a…just a little…"

The cold stone warmed beneath the searing tears and body wrapped around it.

Then a single scalding hand wrapped around Yuffie's hand and dragged her away from Lucrecia's headstone, and for a moment her eyes widened and she whimpered a tear-choked protest as Vincent pulled her from the grave and clutched her tight to his body as he murmured:

"Lucrecia."

The word was whispered into her hair and it held a heart and a lifetime and a whole world full of hurt and love and everything a human could feel, and the sound of it almost made Yuffie cry.

Vincent was down on one knee as he bowed his head humbly, letting his forehead rest against the cold crystal of Lucrecia's headstone, and he whispered:

"Lucrecia Crescent, I want you to meet Yuffie Kisaragi. I want you to meet my girlfriend."

Yuffie hiccupped a sobbing laugh into his shoulder, and Vincent's lips trembled as he held back a snort at the tremendous understatement, the inability of the word to describe all that he felt.

"I have been yours for a long time, Lucrecia," he whispered, husky and raw. "But I think—perhaps it is time. So…I'm going to let you go. Because I have a girl who cannot walk, and only one arm left to carry her with. I do not have the hands, or the strength, or the will left to carry my guilt for you. And she—she is more important than any guilt, than any penitence, than any debt. I am still so sorry and it still hurts a little, I confess—but now, I think I am ready. I think now…I can let you go."

Six feet underneath them, Yuffie would have sworn she felt someone smile.

Would have sworn she heard the words:

_I'm so glad…_

…

It was raining.

That was the first thing Cloud noticed.

Then a thought bubbled up from the back of his brain, a well-tempered panic, a familiar and ever-present worry, and he rolled onto his side with a groan and called: "Zack?"

Speaking tore at his throat and left him clutching miserably at his neck as if he could soothe the rasping pain from the outside, but he levered himself up onto his shoulder and scanned the grey-and-red muck and rasped again: "Zack?"

The corpse of a monster shifted in the distance as Zack shoved it away weakly.

Panting heavily, the soldier responded hoarsely:

"Best. Fight. _Ever_."

Snorting something that might have been a laugh, Cloud flopped back down on his face in the mud, muttering into the wet dirt: "You would."

"Hey, Cumulonimbus?" Zack groaned, slowly levering himself into a sitting position and looking around for his friend.

"Yeah?"

Turning his face up to the clouds, Zack let the weak rain fill his mouth with water so he could rinse out the taste of blood. Spitting, he calmly stated, "You do that to me again and I'll drop-kick you all the way back to Edge. Got it?"

Cloud coughed, bubbles forming in the mire around his face. "Got it."

"I mean, seriously, you could have just _warned_ me," Zack rambled, wiping his bloody hands on his equally grimy pants. "I like a massive bar-style-no-holds-barred brawl as much as the next guy, bonus points for non-human opponents and no guilt—but shit, Cloud, a little forewarning before we have to fight off the next _army_, mmkay?"

There was no reply.

"Cloud?"

Silence.

"Ah, hell." Zack scrambled to his feet in the mud, stumbling sloppily over to where Cloud was sprawled, unmoving. The blonde man was lying on his right side, and Zack could immediately see the cause of his silence. "Cloud…_shit_, Cloud, your arm…"

Blue eyes blinked open faintly, dull and glazed behind his lids. "'S just a li'l cut…'s no big th'ng…"

Groaning, Zack rolled his friend onto his back, running his filthy fingers through his hair in frustration. "Yeah. Little cut. Little cut that's bright pink and swollen as all hell and weeping pus. Definitely, Cloud. Little cut. _Big_ mother-friggin' infection."

Blinking slowly, Cloud stared up at the rain, wincing as the drops splashed down onto his face.

"Too warm," he muttered, words slurred and indistinct. "'S too warm…why innit cold…should be cold…warm rain…al'ays…always hate warm rain…"

Then his eyes fell closed a final time, and Zack ripped off a glove and pressed a hand to the unconscious man's forehead, groaning as burning-hot flesh met his fingers. "Mother of hell," he growled, pulling his PHS from his pocket and dialing rapidly, hissing as it rang shrilly in his ear.

"_Hello, Fair Help Center?"_

"Aerith," he sighed in relief, her voice a balm to aching ears, her comforting presence easing his worries even through a phone. "Aerith, you have to get Tifa down here. And some medicine, while you're at it. I tried, I swear I did, but I can't help him anymore. Aerith, Cloud's _dying_."

…

Tifa leaned against the doorframe and watched Aerith speak into the phone, cradling the mouthpiece close, as if she were trying to snuggle Zack through the telephone line. "Yeah. Okay, Zack. I got it," Aerith whispered, voice aching and soft. "Yeah. Love you too…Bye."

The receiver clicked down into the base, and Aerith sighed heavily and slumped over Zack's desk, groaning faintly.

"What are those idiots up to now?" Tifa asked, keeping the small smile off her face as Aerith straightened abruptly and whirled to face her, relaxing again as she saw her.

"Tifa," the brunette sighed in relief, "I thought you were—"

"Shinra," Tifa supplied before Aerith could finish. Nodding weakly, Aerith sat down on the desk, resting her head in her hands. "You know, all you'd have to do is tell Zack and he'd tear Rufus apart, President or no."

Shaking her head, Aerith kneaded at her brow, moaning faintly. "No, no, that's not it," she sighed helplessly. "He doesn't actually want me—I mean, he's not, y' know, _interested_, he's just—he's trying to make me admit to something—make me accept something…that I'd really rather not."

Tifa walked carefully across the room, rested a hesitant hand on Aerith's knee, and whispered: "Even so. You're Zack's girlfriend, Aerith. He'd beat the world to pieces if you asked him." Aerith snorted and grinned unwillingly at Tifa's coaxing smile. "And…speaking as someone with experience…trying to lock the past away…it doesn't always work. History has a bad habit of coming around to bite you in the butt," she grinned.

"Yeah, and a bit of Cloud's history just caught up to him," Aerith growled, hand curling tightly over Tifa's.

Tifa's breath caught against her will, and a single question fell from her lips, a whisper: "…What…?"

"His left arm," Aerith explained, gripping her own bicep. "One of the cuts Sephiroth gave him. He hasn't been bandaging himself properly and the cut's gotten infected and then he had to go and get in a fight with a horde of some horrible monsters, Zack said, and now he's unconscious with a fever."

Tifa swallowed, hard.

Aerith's green eyes flickered up to catch wine and blood, and her hands were vise-tight around Tifa's as she whispered: "Zack says…that he's losing himself. Really losing it. Zack says that he can't help him anymore. He needs _you._"

…

He hated the feeling that he was losing his mind.

No.

He hated the feeling that he was losing _control_.

If nothing else, Rufus Shinra was an extreme control freak.

So it was only natural that it nearly drove him mad, the headaches that fought against every ounce of his self-control to leave him screaming and clutching his head on the floor, the vomiting that occurred without the courtesy of nausea to forewarn him, the growing tingling numbness in his extremities. That, and…

And…

And when he'd sat down in a quiet, dark corner away from the world and dug into himself and tried to lever up the Mask and tried to find Rufus Shinra hidden behind it—

He couldn't find himself.

Just cold marble and stony emotionless confidence and a completely blank slate and no trace of himself left at all.

It was the Mask.

_He_ was the Mask.

And it was growing every day, swelling and eating him from the inside to make room for itself, and it would never be enough room because it was growing too fast and _pressing_, and his head hurt…

…

Tifa left Aerith alone in Zack's office without another word and walked blankly into the empty room that had once been Cloud's.

He still had her pillow…

She picked it up and wrapped her arms around it and buried her face in the down that now smelled strongly of him, wind and ash and something terribly alive.

_He needs you_.

Cloud needed her.

The question was—

What did _she_ need?

…

_His body lay, burning-hot, in a field of mud and dead monsters._

In his mind, He stood alone in a wasteland of the dead.

There were corpses. More corpses than he could count. Were there hundreds? Were there thousands? He couldn't tell. But each of their faces was clear and distinct in his mind. Men. Women. Children. He saw them all. He stared into their eyes. Their dead eyes stared back at him. Their dead eyes hated him. Their dead eyes blamed him.

All except for one.

But what was one to thousands? To tens of thousands?

Some of the faces, the corpses around him, some of them had been burned. The burned faces were the ones he recognized.

_Nibelheim_.

Townspeople. Neighbors. The bullies who called him a bastard and a weakling…

His mother.

Their faces were burned. Charred. Hair crumbling away, flesh peeling off in grotesque strips. But even those of which only blackened skulls remained had eyes. Eyes that stared at him. Eyes that blamed him.

SEPHIROTH SLAUGHTERED US BECAUSE OF YOU.

_BECAUSE OF YOU_.

He tried to run, but it was the truth. He couldn't run from the truth anymore. And there was nowhere for him to run to. Only the corpse plains. They went on forever. The world was made only with the death that he had sown.

Some faces are burned. The others are bloody.

Faces never remembered, faces seen only for a split second before they were cut down and others replaced them—faces burned forever into his subconscious memory.

Under the endless tide of soldiers that he slaughtered, he fell to his knees. He landed on a dead man's chest. The corpse was missing a leg and had a hole where the heart ought to be. He recognized his own modus operandi, the marks of his own sword. His eyes inevitably rose to find those of the cadaver.

In them was the hate of thousands.

The blame of thousands.

YOU KILLED ME.

_I'm sorry._

YOU KILLED US ALL.

_I'm so sorry…_

WHY?

_I'm sorry. I didn't want to die._

NEITHER DID WE.

_I'm so sorry._

WE HAD WIVES. CHILDREN. HOMES. WE HAD LIVES. YOU HAVE NOTHING.

Then.

Amidst the hate and accusation.

Across his face like a fresh breeze to clear away the stench of death, across his skin like the passage of cool water to wash away the traces of blood;

A whisper…

_You have me…_

Then it was lost.

WE HAD LOVES, TOO.

WERE THOUSANDS OF LIVES WORTH ONE PATHETIC EXISTENCE?

"Of course not!"

Slime, silver, and green. He sat atop a pile of charred corpses. His throne was made of bones and Nibelheim's ash. Sephiroth smiled.

"You selfishly killed all of these men—good, honest men with lovely wives and innocent children—merely to continue your own worthless life. You don't deserve the time you stole with bloody hands. And you certainly don't deserve _this_."

From the bottom of his throne, there was a soft sound, the only sound in a world of silent, staring corpses.

Tifa struggled underneath the weight of Nibelheim's death pressing down on her back. All she could do was whimper as she collapsed underneath the crushing force.

Cloud dropped to his stomach in the rot and the stink of decaying flesh and reached out for Tifa's hand. He was strong—if he could catch her fingers, the desperate fingers reaching out to him, he could pull her free—if he could just get hold of her hand—_why couldn't he reach her hand?_

Silently, soundlessly, the ashes of Nibelheim swallowed her alive.

Looking up, Cloud found himself groveling on his belly at the foot of Sephiroth's bone-and-ashes throne.

The silver demon smiled.

"This is where you belong."

YOU KILLED HER.

_I'm sorry!_

"On your face in the rotting earth."

YOU KILLED US ALL.

_I'm so sorry._

"You kill everything you touch, Cloud. Would you reach out to _her_, your beloved, with those hands that only bring death? Haphaephobia? Don't fuck with me, Cloud. You don't care about people touching you. You merely understand that you bring death to everything you touch."

_I'm so sorry._

_It's all my fault._

And the corpse plains go on forever…

…XxX…

_A/N_

_I swear to god there's a point to all the angst! REALLY!_

_Hey, at least Vincent and Yuffie are cheerful. Yaaay, closure!_

_Shinra can get hugs this time, too, because he's having something of a migraine. Poor baby._

_Also, Cloud's left arm. Eh? Eh? Geostigma, anybody? Oh, me and my random pointless parallels. Hooray!_

…_THERE'S A POINT. REALLY._

_Please review, if only to yell at me for too much angst._


	33. Fiat Lux

**Review Responses:**

**ken08002**: I love giving Cloud weird nicknames, it's too amusing. And yeah, Tifa needs to get down there and save Cloud. Seriously. **TenkaCat**: Hah, glad you liked it, I loved Zack this chapter. He's just so fun. **Darkhorse666**: You're a dear, darling. I'll come unclog your angst-clogged drain. But then it'd just get clogged again… **JukedSolid**: Yeah, Vincent got to bring in some positive vibes for me. I love making Vincent happy, he's a dear. Glad you liked it! **riceball793**: Oh, darling, it is wonderful and perfectly all right, I love you. Rufus IS a freak, isn't he? Crazy, that one. Also, never worry about giving me a long review. I LOVE long reviews. You rock, dear. **kerapal bubbles**: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! But there's a point! A point, I swear! And yes, parallels are win. **Kurogane7**: Because Sephiroth is creepy, that's why. And yes, Rufus is pretty mad nowadays. Oh, dear. **thetoph333**: I'm very sorry your kitty saw you cry! I'm sorry there's so much angst…it just happens… **meg**: Thanks, you're sweet! Glad you liked it! **ohsnapples**: Yep, they get their proper page time this chapter. Enjoy, dearest. **NamioftheSea**: Yep, Rufus is nuts. And yeah, Cloud needs a Tifa. Thanks for reviewing, you're wonderful! **Lucifer xxx**: Hah, you're a sweetie. Thanks for the review, it made me giggle. **ICHIRUKIFTW**: Hah! Thank you, I'm glad you've joined up! Your review was awesome, thank you so much. (On a side note, I so ship IchiRuki. Just saying.) **Zen**: You're too kind, but thank you! I have a soft spot for Yuffentine, what can I say. **vLuna**: Hah, yes. She really should. Also, his pride would never let him join up. Oh, Rufus. **AnimeRANDOMNESS**: Oh, darling, how can I ever thank you enough. Your review FINALLY got me back into the swing of writing enough to finish this chapter. You are a wonderful angel. Thank you, so so much. **kokokuku**: Glad you've joined the party! Thank you for reviewing, you flatter me.

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Thirty-Three: Fiat Lux

_(Oh, dear. I haven't written a disclaimer in ages. I must have forgotten all the proper legal jargon. Didn't it go something like…I don't own FFVII?)_

_Her wolf is waiting in her dark._

_She goes down on her knees before him and curls her fingers into the soft hair behind his ears and presses her forehead against him and simply breathes._

_Her breathing was the most important sound in the world._

_The wolf lowered his head and huffed a hot breath into her hair._

_Her whisper was aching and broken: "Please."_

_The wolf rumbled, low and dark._

"_I'm lost," she pleaded, fingernails scraping down the back of his neck._

_He whimpered mournfully for her._

"_Take me back to the start."_

_And she stood in the dark._

…

"Um…pardon me…"

The deep voice carried the hesitant, gently prodding tone of one who knew he was intruding into a delicate situation and wasn't sure if he was welcome. Vincent and Yuffie turned to the sound and found a tall man in a long coat, carrying underneath his arm—of all things—a large stuffed cat.

"What the heck is up with the ca—" Yuffie was cut off by the hand Vincent placed on her shoulder as he tugged her into the curve of his body and stood to face the newcomer.

Lifting Yuffie onto his hip with the faintest of exhales, Vincent nodded at the other man. "Is there something you need from us?"

Bearded face breaking into a smile, the man approached quickly, handing the cat doll to Yuffie absentmindedly as he came close. Even as Vincent began to recoil, the man seized what was left of his left arm and kept him close, biting his lip apologetically when Vincent hissed in pain. "You are Mr. Vincent Valentine, I assume?"

"You are correct," Vincent replied testily, jerking his arm free and carefully tucking Yuffie closer.

The bearded man sighed and bent over, staring curiously at Vincent's arm. "I apologize for my forwardness," he muttered, never ceasing his inspection. "But I must confess to a deep interest in your case. You see, I've never created a partial body before—never even _considered_ linking a piece to a living host—but Rufus is forceful when he wishes to be, and he certainly wanted me to try this time…"

Vincent and Yuffie exchanged a look. He wrinkled his nose in vague distaste and lifted an eyebrow at her. By way of response, she stuck out her tongue and whirled a finger next to her ear in a general symbolism for 'completely nutso.' His lips twitched in a half-smirk before he turned back to the man examining his missing arm with such interest. "Excuse me, but…who exactly are you?"

Lifting his eyes with a blank expression, the man blinked twice. "You mean Rufus hasn't told you?"

Yuffie snorted. "Like Shinra _ever_ explains _anything_ to _anybody_. That's, like…really freakin' impossible."

With a chuckle, the man dusted his hands on his knees and straightened. "You certainly know Rufus, then." He began to offer his right hand before lowering it awkwardly when Vincent gave him a flat look and hefted Yuffie. "My name is Reeve Tuesti. I'm an Inspire. Rufus hired me to heal the two of you."

…

"_I know this place."_

_Her wolf pressed his head up into her palm in recognition._

Nibelheim_._

_She was sitting on the old well that stood in the center of the town, staring up at the black night sky._

_She looked down._

_There were only three roads out of Nibelheim. One north, to Edge. One south, to Wutai. One west, to Corel and Costa del Sol. East was only mountains. All three roads led back here._

_Every road she'd ever walked in her life led back here._

_She took a deep breath and stared to the left._

Where will you lead me?

_Her wolf nosed at her hand, and when she looked down to meet his endless blue eyes there was a question there._

What do you want?

…

Aerith's hand hovered over the doorknob of Cloud's room.

She could hear Tifa breathing inside. The soft hum at the end of every exhale hinted at snoring, and Aerith was torn between waking her and letting her sleep.

Bone fingers closed over hers, and she drew in a steeling breath before turning to meet the steel blue eyes that waited for her.

"Let her sleep," Shinra commanded tonelessly, pulling her away from the door. "Whatever is psychologically wrong with all of you, your dreams are the best way of letting you sort it all out. She'll have made her decision by morning."

She ripped her hand out of his grip, standing firmly in place as he turned, pale brows arched ever-so-slightly in surprise and displeasure.

"What if she still can't decide?" Aerith demanded, wrapping her arms around her waist self-consciously. "What if—what if she can't choose what she wants?"

Rufus's lips twitched gently into a cruel sneer.

"Then she'll never wake up."

…

_She looked down the road to the south._

What do you want?

"_I want my family to be happy," she answered to the black sky. "I want them to be content and safe and whole, the way we've always been. I want them to be themselves."_

_For a moment, there was silence._

_Then her wolf huffed in acceptance and stood slowly, as tall as her shoulder from where she was seated, and he looked up the black and howled disconsolately._

_The southern sky filled with stars._

_And a lump rose in Tifa's throat._

…

_She looked down the road to the north._

What do you want?

"_I want…I want my friends to be healed," she whispered, the words half-choked and hesitant. "I want them to be fixed, so they can all be happy. I want them to be…I just want them to be all right, for once in their lives."_

_A wet nose touched her cheek._

_Then she could pretend the faint wetness rolling down her face was from his nose, and not her eyes._

_And her wolf bayed to the northern sky, and Tifa watched through misted eyes as it burst into star-studded brilliance._

_And the wetness of the wolf's nose could explain away the tears, but there was no excuse for the sob that swelled like a tumor in her throat._

…

_She looked straight down the road to the west._

What do you want?

_The words rose like a whimper in her throat, and the sky was a blur of black and blue in her tear-filmed eyes._

"_Please," she begged. "Please, I just want Cloud to be happy."_

_The wolf howled like something wild and lonely and heartbroken, and the moon flared into silver flame, hanging low and heavy and brilliant in the night sky._

_She hugged her knees to her chest and bit her lip to keep from wailing._

"_Why?" she whimpered, feeling tiny and all alone. "Why can't I have them all?"_

_Even as the words fell from her mouth, the lights in the sky started to dim._

_And she knew what it meant._

Choose one.

Choose one or lose them all.

_She buried her face in her knees and sobbed._

…

Night came and went, and dawn danced on the horizon like red and gold and warm, and Tifa didn't wake.

Aerith was hiding in the kitchen of the Help Center, head down on the table as she tried not to doze off, fighting off the weariness from staying up the whole night.

Rufus was seated calmly next to the bed, hands folded neatly on his knees, the cruelest of smirks flirting on his lips as he watched her dream in silence.

And Tifa didn't wake.

…

_I can't choose._

_I can't!_

_How could I choose?_

_Between my family,_

_my friends,_

_my Cloud—_

_Why can't I have them all?_

_Planet, is this my punishment?_

_What did I do wrong?_

_What sin did I commit, to only be allowed one-third of my heart?_

_My back is burning,_

_and I'm running out of time._

_The stars are fading faster._

_If I don't choose one, I'll lose them all—_

_How am I supposed to choose?_

_I can't!_

_I can't…_

_My back is burning._

_It hurts._

_Help me…_

…

Her fingers curled into claws in the sheets and sweat broke out on her brow as she whimpered the words, faint and broken and helpless.

"Help me…"

He snarled and seized her by the shoulders, lifting her up off the bed and shaking her hard.

"You don't get help," he hissed. "Help ruins everything. Look only to yourself. Draw only upon your own strength. The answer can only be found within you. You already know what you have to do. You just have to find it…"

Bone-pale fingers dug into the still-raw wound at the top of her shoulder, and she whined weakly.

…

_She heard the snarl of the wolf next to her ear._

_And then her shoulder burst into a flame of white-hot agony that spread like quicksilver fire to re-open the scar on her back, and her sobs were broken only by a scream—_

_And she turned from staring at the stars to glare at her wolf, eyes blurred with tears that tasted of bitter betrayal._

_His teeth were red with her blood, his lips pulled back into a snarl, hackles raised and tail lowered, but the heavy blue eyes that stared at her were shining with something that looked terribly like…_

…_hope._

…_What…?_

_What did he see, to have such hope in his eyes?_

_He sat back on his haunches and looked away from the fading stars and instead he stared at her and stared straight through her with those eyes that bespoke love and sadness and endless, undying faith in…in her._

_And he howled, a melancholy, unending roar that, no matter how many times she heard it—_

"TIFA_…!"_

_-Would always sound like her name._

_She turned her head to look over her shoulder, to stare to the east and see if she could see what he saw, see if she could find the way out, see if she could find a way to replace the heavens that had faded into oblivion._

_Her stars were nowhere to be found._

_Her beautiful night sky had gone dark._

_And she'd lost everything._

_She turned to look behind her because she had nowhere else to turn and no hope left to find._

_Her face lit up in golden flame._

_And she breathed out._

…

Tifa Lockhart sat up in bed.

Rufus Shinra leaned back in his seat with a smirk that was more honesty than evil, and murmured gently: "Welcome back, Miss Lockhart."

For three seconds, she stared straight ahead, eyes blank as they focused and unfocused, adjusting.

Then she turned to look at him.

"I'm done."

…XxX…

The grey expanse of the war-torn valley was deathly still.

"…Hey, Cloud?"

Zack soaked a scrap of his clothing in water before laying the damp fabric across Cloud's burning forehead. The blonde man made no move beyond a small tightening of his brow and released no sound but a tense inhale when Zack used the last of the water bottle to rinse the wound on his arm. Crumpling the plastic in his hands, Zack tossed it in Sleipnir's general direction and sat heavily at Cloud's side, scratching at the back of his head absentmindedly.

"Do you know what an asylum really is, Cloud?" When the unconscious man made no answer, Zack shook his head ruefully and looked up to the morning sky, stretching his neck out. "I mean, you say asylum nowadays and everybody thinks nuthouse. Evil doctors and creepy nurses and lobotomies, ya know? That's what it means nowadays, but that's not what it's supposed to be, really."

His hands clenched into fists in the dirt.

"_Asylum_ is an old Latin world. What it _really_ means is…refuge. Kind of like Rome used to be. You ever hear that legend? When Rome was founded, to get people to join up, the first king made the city an asylum. He took in the exiles, the people no one else wanted. 'Join us, and we'll protect you…'"

Hiding his face behind one hand, Zack gritted his teeth and stared at Cloud.

"That's all I wanted, Cloud. I just…I wanted to make you an asylum. A safe place. A refuge. I wanted to give you a place where you could always come to be protected. So why did it turn out this way?

"…Did I ever help you at all, Cloud? Or did I only break you even more?

"I can't see it anymore, Cloud. I can't see the place we can go back to. I can't see our asylum…"

He buried his face in his knees and rocked back and forth miserably.

Until he heard—

"_Idiot!_"

And someone slapped him in the back of the head and he uncurled in an instant and turned around to find a figure silhouetted against golden light and heard the figure laugh:

"If you can't see the light, it's only 'cause you're looking the wrong way!"

Then the figure moved to the side and another took its place just as he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the blinding sunlight that was beginning to crest the mountains behind him. Squinting into the glare behind his fingers, he waited for the world to swim into focus and when his eyes finally focused he could only see the woman who stood in front of him.

His hand dropped and went out to her as he scrambled to his knees with a cry of her name—

"Aerith!"

And she was in his arms, small and soft and she smelled so, so right, and his nose must have been filled with corpses and his hands must have been soaked in blood for the last eternity because she was so beautiful when she clung to his shoulders and murmured his name. He kissed the side of her face sloppily and curled his fingers into her hair and loved the pain when her nails dug into his arms like she was trying to hold him there.

"I missed you," he crooned in her ear, nuzzling her temple soothingly. "Goddess Minerva, I missed you so much…"

"Zack." His name was an open-mouthed gasp against his throat when she clutched him closer. "Zack."

He crushed her tight against his chest and refused to let her go.

Then he looked up to grin lopsidedly at the woman who stood smiling next to them.

She stood between him and the eastern horizon, the sun behind her and lighting her with crimson and for a second he thought that she must be what people pictured when they said 'heavenly fire.' Then he noticed something missing and had to blink once or twice to make sure his eyes weren't fooling him before he blurted, "Your hair is gone."

Tifa clucked her tongue and grinned at him. "Not _gone_," she corrected, flicking the shortened strands over her shoulder. "It's just…not quite as there. I mean, it's still shoulder-length or so…"

"Don't let that fool trouble you, Miss Lockhart," came the ice-cold voice of Rufus Shinra as he stepped up to lay a hand on her shoulder. "He's simply too stupid to see how lovely you are with your hair trimmed."

Rolling her eyes, Tifa gave Zack a rueful shrug. "Had to bring him along," she protested. "Funny thing about borrowing transportation from the government is, you have to take the government with you, too."

Rufus snorted delicately. "If memory serves, it was _you_ who asked for _my_ assistance," he reminded, eyebrow arching over his remaining eye. Tifa made a scoffing noise and waved him off, grinning at Zack.

"Details, details," she scoffed. "But I suppose I did have to bring you along, considering you're the one with all the medical hookups and I'm the one with the vested interest in keeping a sick man alive. If Zack would be kind enough to point the way to said idiotic blondie…?"

The soldier stood slowly, dragging Aerith with him, stepping out of the way as Tifa went to her knees next to Cloud. Shinra muttered something into a PHS and, scant moments later, a medical team emerged from one of the fleet of vehicles Zack hadn't even noticed appear. It took no more than ten minutes for the doctors to hook Cloud up to an IV of antibiotics, assuring the president and an unresponsive Tifa that his infection was relatively minor and quite treatable, that a few days of antibiotics and bed rest would have him good as new.

Their assurances fell on deaf ears.

Fingertips trembling slightly, Tifa reached to brush stray hairs away from Cloud's sweaty forehead, her touch delicate but confident, eyes concerned but sure. Zack watched her with interest, the way her shortened hair hung around her face and her cropped bangs brushed her eyebrows delicately.

Aerith elbowed him in the side. "Don't go falling in love with her," she chided him, snuggling further into his side.

Smiling indulgently, Zack buried his nose in the hair at the top of her head and kissed her scalp, content in her arms. "It's not even that," he murmured, nuzzling her head slowly. "She's…different. Something just feels different in the air around her. Like she's…_focused_. She's set her eyes on something and refuses to look away. I think so. She's just got the aura, you know? The aura of a woman with a path."

Aerith looked up at him, verdant eyes wide, her expression speaking of wonder and admiration. "You should have seen her, Zack." She shook her head, eyes closing, remembering. "I thought she'd never wake up—I thought she'd never be able to choose. But, just when I'd given up on everything, she burst into the kitchen looking like someone walking out of hell itself. She walked over to the counter and picked up a knife and for half a second I was so, so scared—"

…XxX…

_A few hours earlier._

"_Tifa?"_

_Long, pale fingers curled around the hilt of the kitchen knife, and Tifa whirled on Aerith in storm of liquid darkness hair with wide, wild eyes and her mouth open to scream:_

"_I'm done!"_

_Then the knife rose to rest next to her throat, and Shinra kicked in the door with a look that was almost like panic and Aerith could only sit deathly still and scream—_

_And a waterfall of hair fell to the floor._

_Strands slipping through her fingers like dark silk, Tifa sawed through the rest of her hair, shaking her head as the last strands fell away to pool at her feet, a heap of delicate black thread._

_Aerith stared at her with terrified eyes and whispered a single, hesitant, "…Tifa…?"_

_Tifa slammed the knife down on the counter and looked at Aerith with eyes that were midnight lit with fire. "Do you know," she began, pacing to stand right in front of her friend, "why I grew my hair to that absurd length?"_

_Dumbstruck, Aerith shook her head._

_Then Tifa turned around and jerked the strap of her tank top to the side. Automatically, Aerith winced as she saw the white, thick scar splitting the skin there, and Tifa stomped her foot, as if her reaction had confirmed everything. "When I was sixteen," she began, addressing the opposite wall. "Barret moved us to a beach house. I wore a bikini in public for the first time, and every single person I met that day asked me about my scar. Stared at it. Was horrified by it. It made me self-conscious. It made me feel ugly. I grew my hair out for one reason. To hide my scar."_

_Tifa whirled and her short hair floated around her face, still dark and still storming, still silk and still fierce, and the eyes behind her bangs were on fire._

"_But I'm _done_!"_

_She laughed._

"_I'm done with hiding! With fearing! With…_dreaming_. Look at us, Aerith!" She demanded, punching the table with all her strength. "We've all been living half in our own heads! We're all staring at the darkness and hoping that someday it'll give us an answer. We're looking at options A, B, and C, and we can't make ourselves choose any of them. We're looking north, west and south and not liking any of our options. What the _hell_ have we been doing all this time, Aerith?"_

_Soft lips curled back into a wild grin, ecstatic and completely uninhibited._

"_We're done! I'm done! Done with hiding, and fearing. Done with _dreaming_!"_

_She roared:_

"WAKE UP!

"_Turn from the dreaming, and look towards the day! If we'd only stop staring at the fading stars and look, we'd realize—_

"…_The sun is rising."_

_Her grin softened into a gentle smile, her scream into a lulling murmur._

"_The night is darkest just before the dawn. We _have_ to look towards the future. We have to pick a direction if we're ever going to start walking! And as long as we walk straight towards the sun, we can never get lost!_

"_I'm going to walk straight into the light. If a wall stands in my way, I'll punch and kick and fight like hell, until I knock it down. And if I ever meet a wall I can't knock down…"_

_Biting her lip, Tifa smiled like a fool._

"_Then Cloud will carry me over it._

"_I trust in that._

"_I trust in him."_

_Tifa backed away from the table, leaving Aerith open-mouthed and awestruck behind her. She crossed to the window of the kitchen, took the curtains in hand, and threw them open to let in the light of the dawn. Voice low and tender, she whispered:_

"Fiat Lux."

…

He hurt.

He hurt all over.

He hurt everywhere all at once, and he could feel needles.

His head rolled limply to the side and he saw doctors in white, working over his body, injecting him with things and hooking him up to fluids and pumping his veins full of liquids that felt all wrong.

_Oh_.

And then…everything made sense.

He was a monster. Cursed to hell. He didn't deserve to be saved. How could someone—some_thing_—like himself even imagine defeating Sephiroth?

Being taken in by Zack Fair?

Being befriended by Vincent Valentine?

…Being loved by Tifa Lockhart?

It had never made sense, really. Not even in the very beginning. Looking back, knowing the truth, it was so obvious. He couldn't help but wonder why he'd never realized it before.

The words rose out of his raw throat before he could fully register them himself:

"…So it was all a dream…"

"_Cloud_!"

The cry came in answer to his own, so he let his head roll the other way and looked up into—

A pair of wine-dark, chocolate-and-blood eyes; a pair of eyes he remembered; a pair of eyes from a wonderful, far-off dream.

"No, Tifa," he scolded mildly, trying to talk the dream away. "I'm awake now, you're not supposed to be here. Dreams are only for sleep, see? And ghosts are only for nighttime. It's morning, you know. So I really shouldn't be having a dream about the ghost of my first crush. It's just not fair."

There were warm hands on his face, the only warmth in a world that was too cold, and distantly he could hear her voice, a half-remembered voice from a half-forgotten dream, whispering: "No, Cloud, I'm alive, you're not dreaming, please, come back, please…"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. What a persistent dream. It even had the audacity to change, to evolve, to shorten her hair where it had always been long. Silly dream.

…But…

If it had all been a dream, then…

Since the dream was staying for now, why not…

"It's all right, right?" He whispered, and then his hand came up and touched the side of her face, the curve of her jaw, the back of her neck, and pulled down. "It's all right, because it's only a dream. Right?"

Warm rain was falling on his face, and when he licked his lips in anticipation, it tasted like salt, and the dark temptation dream in his grip was sobbing his name.

"…Cloud…"

"It's only a dream," he affirmed, breathing the words against her lips as he sat up and pulled her close in the same motion. "It's only a dream, so you'll be all right. Even if I touch you…you'll be all right…"

Was he dreaming?

Warm rain was falling on his face.

His dream—his warm, dark, delicate, strong, perfect dream—had perfect soft lips and a name to groan against them.

"_Tifa…_"

Then he pulled her down that final millimeter, and his mouth closed over hers.

_First kiss._

…XxX…

_A/N_

…_OH GOD IT'S BEEN A MONTH I HATE MYSELF._

_I will make one excuse._

_SCREW. AP. ENGLISH._

_And that is all. I beg forgiveness, offer you the single most badass and emotionally resolved Tifa I have ever written, ever (I love her passionately right now) and FINALLY THEY SNOG._

_YESSSSS._

_Read and review for your horrible inconsistent authoress? I love you all!_


	34. Raison D'etre

**Review Responses:**

**kerapal bubbles**: Aaah, I'm so glad you approve. I think this is how Tifa's always been to me, but I finally got a good hold on how badass she is. Her awesomeness shall not fail again, I swear. **Ichirukiftw**: Glad you liked the chapter! Thanks for reviewing! **Kurogane7**: Rufus is…debatably crazy. I just never know what he's up to. And yes, hope has appeared for Vincent and Yuffie. Hooray! **kitty materia princess**: Oh indeed. He was hallucinating out of MIND. But it's okay, we love him. **choco-a-loco**: Like the new name. Zack IS a sweetie. And yeah, poor confused Cloud. We torture him so. And it's ACC length. I just didn't know how to describe that, so I said 'about shoulder.' **ken08002**: Yep, Cloud's the only nutter left. Well, asider from Rufus. Rufus is weird. **AnimeRANDOMNESS**: YES. CONFETTI. I approve. Your reviews are darling, my dear. Thank you! **thecrimson333**: Yep, finally. Was quite the buildup, wasn't it? Glad you approve! Thank you for kitty! **Ohsnapples**: Hah, thank you. I'm sorry it was so long for the update… **vLuna**: Tifa IS incredibly awesome, isn't she. Yeah, hopefully the second kiss won't be in chapter 66. I make no promises. **Froggychan**: Thanks so much, I'm glad you've joined! **M. L. Ayala**: Thank you for finally reading, then! I'm glad you like it! **ChaosAngel4us**: I have too much fun with the nicknames, don't I. Thanks for reviewing! **cloudlover2989**: I'm sorry for making you wait so long…I love you though! **riceball793**: Intense it was. And yeah, 'sloppy' about sums up that kiss. And yep, Vince is about to get shiny and golden. **NamioftheSea**: Hah, I figured it would be a good opportunity for him to pop in. I like having him about. **dark aura12**: I am deeply flattered. I'm glad you like them! And trust me, ANY review is a proper review. **Neko Hoshi**: Thank you so much for reviewing and making me kick my butt into gear and write this update! You rock, darling.

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Thirty-Four: Raison D'être

_I thought she'd be able to fix me._

His tongue swept the inside of her mouth as if he could find salvation somewhere inside of her.

_I NEEDED her to fix me!_

His fingers were digging into her jaw and ripping through her hair and clamped tight around her shoulders to keep her trapped close, his hands were everywhere and all over her and even if his hands had claimed every inch of her skin, it wouldn't have satisfied him.

He could have thrown her onto her back and ripped her apart and he could have made love to her right there in the dirt and the blood and he could have pulled her skin off and eaten her alive and it still wouldn't have been enough to give him what he needed.

There was a dark black hole somewhere deep inside of him and it was eating his heart from the inside out and all it left behind it was pain and pain and pain. He'd thought maybe there was a light inside of Tifa that could fill that hole and heal all the dark infected parts of his soul but his tongue was inside her mouth and his hands were all over her skin and he couldn't find it…!

And that sick rotten abyss inside of him was growing and growing and feeding on the taste of blood in his mouth.

Then Tifa tore away from him and the warm rain was falling on his cheeks again.

He opened his eyes to find her chin coated in blood from a torn lip and her face slick with tears welling from her eyes.

And her eyes were broken black and crimson blood, and she was no dream.

Cloud lifted trembling fingers to touch where short hairs clung to the side of her face and watched as she clutched at his hand with both of hers and the blood ran down her chin and touched her throat like the trace of a fatal wound.

"Hurt," he whispered. "Why does it only hurt?"

And that black bottomless hole inside of him ate another part of his soul.

And warm rain was falling on his face.

…

He didn't like it.

It smelled _wrong_.

Reeve was bustling about and explaining things in a far-too-animated voice and there was nothing but a papery gown and a thin, single-ply blanket draped over him to protect him from the cold. His amputated left arm had been peeled out of its sling on his chest and was on an icy steel table that smelled of disinfectant and sterile things and he didn't like it.

His worry was illogical and he knew it. Reeve had lent them a phone to call Rufus to back up his story; Cid, the pilot of their plane, had recognized the Inspire as soon as they boarded; the man had sat both Vincent and Yuffie down for a full hour to explain the procedures they were about to receive in agonizingly minute detail. Everything checked out; every claim the man made could be backed; every word he said could be verified. Vincent had no cause in the world to be afraid.

But he was cold, and his nose was full of antiseptic, and he lay on the table and wondered if it was possible that the adrenalin coursing through him could somehow counteract the anesthesia he was about to receive.

As paranoid as he was, he'd insisted on having his surgery before Yuffie's—just in case something happened, he'd rather be the one who bore the consequences. But Yuffie knew him a little bit too well, and had sat in front of the operating room door and refused to budge until Reeve had agreed to let her sit in on Vincent's surgery.

So now she was in a blue paper gown, her little face covered in a surgical mask, sitting at his right side with round plum eyes beaming down at him with all the assurance she could offer.

And Vincent swallowed his pride for a moment, and held up his right hand before her, and prayed she wouldn't make him say it.

She didn't.

Her slip little fingers, wrapped in too-big plastic gloves, curled around his own fingertips and squeezed, and she beamed at him from behind her mask, and that was all he needed.

Vincent turned his head and nodded once to Reeve, who bowed his head gravely and lowered the oxygen mask over Vincent's face. The first breath he took tasted artificial and tainted with every unholy abomination known in heaven, and he clenched Yuffie's hand so tight he saw her wince and worried he might have hurt her, but then she clenched her hand tight around his and gave him pressure for pressure, pain for pain, and he bit down on his tongue and tried to tell himself that he _wasn't_ completely vulnerable.

"All right, Mr. Valentine," Reeve's deep voice came from his left, but Vincent refused to turn, keeping his eyes locked on Yuffie, refusing to look away, because if he died before he woke up he wanted the last thing he saw to be her face. "Count back from ten for me, please…"

Her bruised plum eyes blinked gently down at him as he muttered obligingly. "Ten…nine…eight…"

He never reached seven.

…

Rufus Shinra hated headaches more than anything.

He was currently prostrate on a poor-quality bed in a poor-quality trailer, the best thing he could manage on short notice, and his head was still throbbing with stubborn discomfort, but that dull ache was so constant now he could almost tune it out.

Here, stranded in remote mountains with minimal cell phone service—it was a miracle Fair had ever gotten through to Gainsborough, really—his title as 'President' meant next to nothing. His authority was weak, borderline useless. And his one constant, his one eternal ally, his own mind—that was slipping away faster with each passing second.

There was a delicate knock on the fiberglass wall above his head.

"So even President Shinra sleeps. I'm astounded."

He groaned delicately into his pillow and didn't bother to open his eyes. Or rather, eye. He kept forgetting about that. "Miss Gainsborough, while your dashing wit and elegant humor are always appreciated, I do wonder if you require anything of me at this particular moment. I was in the middle of a rather refreshing nap."

For a moment, he heard nothing beyond the echo of his own breathing in the pillow.

Then:

"There is something I need, actually."

His brow wrinkled briefly, and he opened his eye to stare at the woman wringing her hands nest to him. "And what would that be?"

Her hands met behind her back, then again in front as she brought her braid around her body to tease the end with her fingertips. "I've…been thinking. About what you said. Back at the Fair Help Center, that is. And I think…well, I talked with Zack, and…I guess I was just wondering if, maybe, the offer still stands."

Shinra frowned. Slowly and carefully, he eased himself up until he was sitting on the side of the bed, facing her as she knelt before him. "You're ready for me to help you?"

"I'm tired of being useless," she burst, the words exploding out in an outburst of emotion. "Zack's been here helping Cloud, and Tifa's so determined now, and I'm thinking that I want to walk forward with them, but I'm too weak to do that right now. But you—if you can come through on your promise, then I can walk with them. I'll be helpful to them. It's just like Tifa said. I'm tired of being weak. I'm tired of just dreaming."

Rufus swallowed against a dry throat.

Bone pale fingers stretched out to lightly brush the softness of her cheek. She closed her eyes on a shuddering exhale as his fingertips passed over the bridge of her nose and trailed along her eyelashes. After a moment, his hands slipped away from her face, and her eyes opened as she sucked in a wavering breath.

Shinra's voice was only a little bit unsteady when he spoke.

"Then I suppose we'd better wake you up."

…

Tifa and Rufus's retinue of trailers and trucks had arrived in the valley at approximately seven in the morning. By seven-fifteen, Cloud was pumped full of antibiotics and wrapped in warm, clean hospital bedding and was—according to his doctors—well on his way to recovering.

His fever finally broke around one in the afternoon.

It was ten at night before he woke up.

And it was raining.

…

He could hear drums going off in the distance.

_Rat-a-tat-pit-pat-tap-tap-tap._

It was thunderously loud. Dimly, he thought that was rude of the drummers. He was trying to sleep. He'd been having a dream. It had been…such a good dream…

His eyes eased open slowly.

The first thing he saw was a ceiling. That made sense, since he was lying on his back. What _didn't_ make sense was that, last he remembered, he'd been sleeping on the ground, outside. And it wasn't the ceiling of his room at the Help Center, and it wasn't the roof of Hojo's lab that he'd been tortured in, and it wasn't the ceiling of the little wood-and-bricks house he'd shared with his mother.

He looked at his left arm.

The wound that had been festering white and seeping clear pus only hours ago was knitted shut with impossibly tiny stitches and bound tight with layers and layers of clean white bandages. Buried deep in the crook of his left elbow was an IV drip, slowly meting antibiotics into his system. He swallowed carefully, resisting the urge to rip it out of his vein.

Instead, he looked to the right.

Two pale hands were curled around his right arm, fingers clenched tight around his wrist, and short dark hair was draped over his white sheets, a soft dark head nestled in the palm of his hand.

He swept her cheek with his thumb. Soft and warm.

Her delicate exhale was moist and hot against the heel of his hand.

But his dreams had always seemed so real before.

So he said the name.

"_Tifa…_"

And she stirred slowly, licking her lips and blinking fuzzy eyes, fingers slipping and re-tightening on his wrist, one hand leaving his to rub at her eyes as she slowly straightened, stretching her sore back. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, her eyes focused on him.

_Every time you lay those bloody hands on her…she dies a little more._

_Blood crimson and sin._

"Cloud!" she breathed in relief, and in the same moment, he screamed:

"_No!_"

He ripped his hand out of her grip and clambered away from her on the bed, and every part of him was crying out: _she can't be here she can't be here she can't see me not like this it's not supposed to be like this I was supposed to be okay!_ He climbed out of the bed before she could recover enough to stand from her chair and when the IV tugged at his arm again he couldn't stop himself from ripping it out, and it didn't hurt and hardly even bled, but Tifa still cried out and tried to reach across the bed and stop him. He backed into the wall to put distance between them, and found he was lucky—the door was right behind him. Whirling on his heel—why were his feet bare, who had taken his shoes off?—he threw the door open and sprinted outside.

Outside, it was raining.

He ran a few steps through the mud before he felt her fingers close on his wrist and he spun to shake her off and found her with dark hair clinging to her face and eyes open and bleeding for him, and every time she looked at him with those eyes the abyss inside of him devoured another part of his heart.

"No!" He yelled before she could get a word out, and he ripped his hand out of her fingers and backed away from her. "You're not supposed to _be here!_"

"Cloud," she whispered, and his name sounded like a plea on her tongue. "Cloud, you were dying."

Then he advanced those two steps and seized her by the shoulders and yelled in her face as she stared helplessly up at him: "Then you should have let me die!" He shook her, hard, and tried to pretend the way her lower lip trembled and her eyes filled didn't tear him apart. "What, did you think I came here to start a new life? Hell no! I came back to the start so I could make it the end! You know what's over those mountains, right?" He spun her violently, mud splashing around her feet, even as she nodded furiously.

"Nibelheim," she murmured, staring at the peaks wrapped in thunderclouds. "Nibelheim's ashes."

He turned her again, bending to be on level with her, and she wouldn't stop _staring_ at him. "That's right! Nibelheim! My birthplace! I came back to where I was born so that I could _die!_ So I could die without destroying any more lives! So that I could die without destroying _you!_"

And all his strength seemed to slip out of him with the words, and his grip on her arms loosened as he fell to his knees in front of her, hands slipping down her arms to curl around her own, clinging to her desperately, wishing he had the strength to push her away. "Why…" he whimpered miserably, face streaked with rain and tears and shoulders shaking with cold and weakness and sobs. "Why couldn't you just let me die? It would have been _so much better_…aren't you supposed to just let monsters die…I could have just died like that, and it would have been better for _everyone_, better than letting a monster live…"

Then her hands were on his face, her little, strong hands, and when he looked up she was on her knees too, and her eyes weren't bleeding crimson anymore, they were just chocolate dreams and scarlet banners, and the fingers that touched his cheeks were strong and sure, soft and tender and sweet. She smiled at him with half of her mouth and whispered:

"Where are you, Cloud?"

His fingers curled around her wrists, and he wasn't sure if he was going to pull her away or hold her there forever, and he pressed his tears into her palm and whimpered: "I don't know…I don't know…"

She turned his head back to hers and lifted his chin a little and gave him the bravest smile he'd ever seen. "You're not my Cloud," she whispered.

Sob and protest caught on each other in his throat and he choked on both, unable to respond at all. But she was still smiling, and her hands were so warm that it hurt his face, and she was smiling so bravely that tears were starting to slip down her cheeks like diamonds against roses. "You're not him," she whispered, holding him still so he couldn't escape her. "Because I think my Cloud doesn't know where he is. But I know he's in there somewhere. _He's in there somewhere_," she whispered urgently, shaking him a little. "Please, Cloud. Please come back to me. I don't know where you're hiding, and I don't know where you are that you can't find your way out of, but please…please come back to me…"

Her voice broke on the last sentence, and she had to duck her head to choke down the sob that was rising in her throat, and when she looked at him again her eyes were overflowing and the tears were flowing like waterfalls, and she told him: "Cloud, wherever you can't find your way out of…whatever shadow you've fallen into that you think you can't escape from…please, please just remember—Cloud, it's not as dark as you think…"

She bit her lower lip to keep from wailing aloud, and he clung to her wrists and he didn't know what to do, he didn't know where to go or how to help or what he could do, and he didn't know didn't know didn't know because the dark hole in his chest had eaten all his certainty and everything he used to know and he didn't even know how to stop her from crying anymore.

"Good job, Lockhart. I'll take it from here."

Then someone seized the back of his shirt and was dragging him away from her, and he stumbled blindly backwards, because he couldn't look away, and he didn't know how far he walked like that, but the last thing he saw was Tifa reaching out for him against the restraining arms of Zack and Aerith, and then he stumbled over his own feet and found himself flat on his back and he was staring up at the sky and—

And warm rain was falling on his face.

"For Gaia's sake, I'm not carrying you, so get up and _follow me_, dammit."

He looked up and Shinra had him by the collar and was dragging him forward to the side of the valley, and he saw the cave in the rock only a second before they were inside of it, and Rufus was dragging him further and further in, and Cloud tried to protest but his mouth wasn't working right and the further they got into the cave the darker it became and even with superhuman sight he could feel shadows pressing on him from all sides and Shinra wouldn't look at him.

Then, without warning, the man stopped and turned on him with that pale blue eye that looked like ice and hell.

Shinra opened his mouth and snarled the five words Cloud least expected in that moment:

"You are _not_ a monster."

Then those bone hands were clenched in his shirt and he was thrown up against a wall and—was Shinra taller than him? He'd never thought about it before but in that moment the man towered over him like a giant and sneered down at him:

"You pathetic fucking infant. You're no monster. You're just a child."

Cloud trembled and tried to press himself deeper into the wall. Shinra glared at him, lip twisted in revulsion.

"That's all you are. A scared little boy hiding inside a man's body. All you are is _afraid_!" Shinra yelled, shoving him into the wall and backing away, but not enough to allow Cloud any breathing room before he rounded on him again and yelled: "_Everything_ you do is because _you're fucking TERRIFIED!_"

Shinra paused, running a hand through his dripping hair, and Cloud stayed pressed against the wall as Rufus sucked in an exasperated breath and glared at him. "You're a child," the president began, voice pitched high and patronizing. "So you'll believe anything an adult tells you. Even something so _stupid_ as, 'your hands bring death.' What does that even _mean?_" He yelled, flinging his hands in the air. "How do you honestly look at yourself and at the earth and the way the world works and _believe that_?"

That single ice-blue eye pinned Cloud to the wall as the younger man breathed heavily, silent and waiting for the next verbal strike. But Shinra turned away, hands deep in his hair, pulling at the strands and screaming:

"_Are you really that much a child?_"

Then he whipped around on his heel and advanced on Cloud again. "You believe you bring death to those around you, so you chose to leave them."

Cloud nodded mutely. Shinra gave him a cold look.

"I say that's bullshit," Rufus hissed, inches from Cloud's face. "You expect me to _believe_ that, Cloud Strife? I don't. Not for one second. You know why you _really_ ran away?

"Because. You're. _Scared_."

Cloud whimpered, and Shinra laughed with black humor.  
"You fucking child, you're so scared you can't even _breathe!_" Tilting his head, Shinra offered: "Because Zack is important to you. And if Zack gets hurt then you'll hurt too."

Nodding numbly, Cloud pushed farther into the wall, wishing he could flee.

"Because the Fair Help Center and all of its people are important to you. And if they hate you, then that'll hurt you."

Another nod. Shinra scowled.

"Because you're in love with Tifa Lockhart. And if she doesn't love you, then you'll be in unspeakable agony."

The laugh that ripped out of Shinra carried all the amusement of a funeral. "All you're doing is running from being hurt! Don't think you can play the martyr with me, Cloud. You're not sacrificing all love and life for the sake of those around you. Do you really think I'm dumb enough to believe that?"

Shinra grabbed his shirtfront again and shook him, hard. "The deepest, most primal urge in the human psychology is _self-preservation_. It takes a strong, mature person to place others before themselves. "_…And you are just a child_."

Rufus dropped Cloud, pushing him away like something that wasn't even worth holding. "You _stupid fucking child_, all you're doing is running around frantically and trying to keep away from everything with edges sharp enough to cut! For Gaia's sake, why won't you—for _Tifa's_ sake, why won't you fucking _grow up?_ _You fucking child!_"

Slowly, legs losing the strength to support him, Cloud slipped to the ground, even as Shinra went on one knee to seize his shoulders and shake him again. "You saw her! _She's screaming out for you_. She fell in love with you because you were a child that needed her and that need drew her in and made her want to protect you, but that's not _enough_."

Then Shinra's tone was different—no softer, no gentler, but raw and ragged, like a re-opened wound, and the eye that looked down at Cloud was open and full of agony. "_Look_ at her," Rufus groaned. "She's not your mother. She's your _lover_. She's a _woman_,Cloud. _And every woman wants someone to take care of her._

"_LOOK AT HER!_" Rufus screamed, and Cloud flinched away, hands rising in feeble defense. "She has only ever reached out for you. Is it _in_ your childish brain to comprehend that? By all that is good and pure in this world, would you just—_look at her! She has only ever reached out for you._"

The bone fingers digging into his shoulders seized his chin and wrenched his face to stare at the opening of the cave, where Tifa leaned against the stone, panting and pressing a hand to her back, rain dripping from her hair, tears still streaking down her cheeks and still so beautiful he thought he was going to die just from looking at her.

Then Shinra ripped his gaze back to him and hissed into his face: "She's reaching out even now. Strife…if you don't take that hand…who will? _Who else is there?_ So your hands are stained! So you've killed people!_ Maybe it was for a reason!_ Maybe this is all just a game, and those were the qualifying rounds. Maybe Gaia needed someone to protect her, and maybe she needed the strongest person who ever existed, and maybe this whole world and all of its people are crying, screaming, reaching out to _you_."

Shinra looked away and chuckled blackly again. "If you were strong enough to live through three years of war and thousands of men trying to kill you—who the hell else is strong enough? Gaia help us, this entire world, every man, woman, and child—we have no options left but to put all our lives in the hands of one _ignorant, misled child!_"

Seizing his collar, Shinra dragged Cloud to his feet, ignoring the woman stumbling down the cave tunnel just feet away. "Are you going to just ignore those lives, Strife? Will you let them all die, just because you can't look away from your own bloody past?

"_Are you just going to turn away from her hand again?_

"One last thing, Strife." Shinra turned, taking Cloud with him so that Cloud was deeper in the cave, with Shinra between him and Tifa, and Cloud finally had room to retreat, so he took a step back—

into empty air.

Cloud clutched at Shinra's arm for balance as his heel slipped into empty space and he realized now why Rufus had stopped there as he stared down the mining shaft that fell hundreds of feet down into the earth, a straight, rocky drop all the way down.

He had one foot on dry land and one foot in the air and the only thing keeping him from falling was Shinra's bone hand fisted in his shirt.

The president pulled him up briefly, close enough to hiss in his ear:

"I have no use for someone who cannot kill Sephiroth."

Cloud stared over his shoulder at the woman who was weeping and dark storms and reaching out for him, always reaching out for him.

"So if you cannot find a reason to live…"

And then he saw the comprehension dawn in Tifa's eyes as she saw the pit beneath his feet and she had enough time to open her mouth and suck in a breath—

And she had drawn all sound into her lungs with that breath, all the sound in the world except for the dry whisper of Shinra's voice in his ear:

"If you cannot find a reason to live…

"Just die."

Then Shinra's fingers slipped from his shirt, and he was falling.

The sound of the world came back just in time for him to hear Tifa screaming his name:

"_CLOUD!"_

…XxX…

_A/N_

_I have nothing to say about this chapter except sorry, I know it's late, I'm not dead._

_Also, I love Rufus. How did my story ever happen without him._

_Please review, it does my wounded author's spirit good. I love you all!_


	35. This Story

**Review Responses:**

**Kurogane7**: Yeah, Rufus may be crazy, but he's useful! And poor Vinnie, he's just not gonna like hospitals anymore, is he. **thecrimson333**: Please don't kill him, he makes plot happen… **ken08002**: Hah, Rufus has his fingers in too many pies. Zack will take care of Aerith, be sure. **AnimeRANDOMNESS**: YES. Rufus is EXACTLY as badass as he wants to be. And Cloud…well. Read. **Ohsnapples**: Well, I didn't update when you told me to, but I has chapter…*offers meekly* **SorrowsFlower**: Yay, I love Shinra too. I love him giving Cloud lectures just because he's pissed off. It's so beautiful. **kerapal bubbles**: You love him, you hate him. We all have mixed emotions for the Rufus. Hah. Your review was giggletastic. **Creed**: Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like it! **vLuna**: Yes! He's so useful! Yeah. Cloud kinda needed that. **run4life**: You have not reviewed before, but I'm dang happy you did now! This made my day! I'm glad you like my emotionally liberating rants, because I love them and there's about to be a chapter full of them. Read on, dear heart. **lil' muffin-cake**: Go Rufus indeed. I'm glad you like it, thanks for reviewing! (And forgive my cliffies.) **cloudlover2989**: Next chapter is hot off the griddle. Enjoy! **Darkhorse666**: Darling, marry me. Ohwait you already did. Also, hush, I like my cannibalistic kiss scenes. And you do, too. **kitty materia princess**: Please don't cry! If you cry, I'll cry, and then it will just be a mess. **NamioftheSea**: Is Rufus EVER trying to help ANYONE? Good question, I should ask him sometime… **TifaXCloud**: Thank you for this very scream-tastic review, it made me giggle! **Neko Hoshi**: I'm sorry for being a terrible cliffy-writer… **Anonymous Banana**: Your review made my day on sixteen different levels. I adore you. Also, it's okay, I adored Shinra last chapter, too. He's so manly.

WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Thirty-Five: This Story

This story is about to end.

For this is, and has always been, the story of a man.

The story of a monster.

The story of a child.

This is his story.

And he is about to die.

…

The man fell and fell and fell.

He fell for _years_.

Sometime during the fall, the man remembered:

_If you cannot find a reason to live…_

_Just die._

Sometime during the fall, the man thought:

_I am a monster._

_I am an existence that only brings death to those around me._

_My life, my actions, my very existence spreads sorrow and horror. Everything that I love, everything that I touch—it all dies._

_So why?_

_Why do I stay alive?_

_To kill Sephiroth?_

_No. There are other people that could do that. Zack, if he tried. Vincent, if he wanted to. Rufus, too. Even the great General can't survive a bomb to the face. Probably._

_So why?_

_For Tifa?_

_No. What can I be for Tifa? Pain and pain and pain. That's all I ever gave her. There are so many others out there. Ones who could give her what she needs. Not just pain._

_So why?_

_Why do I stay alive?_

_Is it truly…_

_Because opportunity to die had not presented itself?_

_Gaia, what a pathetic existence._

_But if that's true…_

_I guess I can die with no regrets._

_Nothing behind me but harsh memories and bad dreams._

_And bad dreams always disappear by morning._

_I guess I should have thanked Rufus. For finally giving me a chance to die…_

_I guess I should have apologized to Tifa…_

…_Why?_

_I thought I could die with nothing behind me, so…why…?_

_Why this…REGRET?_

Until the day I die, you stay alive! PROMISE ME!

_Oh._

_One more broken promise._

_One more hand from which to turn away._

…

Sometime during the fall, the man remembered:

_I remember them all._

_Every hand that reached out for me in the throes of death._

_And I remember thinking to myself—_

_Those must be the claws of justice, the hands of vengeance,_

_Calling for my blood._

_So I remember turning and running from every hand that reached out to me._

…

Sometime during the fall, the man wondered:

…

_Was I wrong?_

_Right now,_

_I'm not screaming for blood._

_Instead…_

_Help me!_

_Help me!_

_Save me!_

_Was I wrong?_

_Maybe none of them reached to me for vengeance._

_Maybe they all…_

_Just wanted to be saved._

_Maybe the hands, the claws of my nightmares, are only begging…_

_Help me._

_Help me._

_Save me._

_And maybe her hand, the hand that's always reaching out for me—_

_Maybe this time, her hand wasn't extended for my sake again._

_Maybe she's screaming, too:_

_Help me._

_Help me!_

_Save me!_

_And I…_

_I…_

_I promised!_

_Even just one time…_

_Please, even if it's only one time…_

_WHY CAN'T I KEEP EVEN ONE PROMISE TO HER?_

_WHY CAN'T I TAKE EVEN ONE OF THE HANDS REACHING OUT TO ME?_

It takes a strong, mature person to put others before themselves.

AND YOU ARE JUST A CHILD.

_I'm so small._

_I'm so scared._

_I'm unlucky, and I don't have the strength to protect the people around me._

_And if they get hurt…_

_That hurts me, too._

_I'm so scared!_

_Please, please, I didn't ever want to feel like this!_

_Please help me!_

_Someone and anyone, I'm begging you!_

_I'M SO SCARED OF BEING HURT._

_I DON'T WANT TO BE HURT._

_PLEASE DON'T HURT ME, PLEASE…_

_Don't hurt me…_

_I'm so small._

_I'm so scared._

_Please don't hurt me._

_I'll break._

_And I'm not strong enough to make it better._

_I'm so small._

_I'm so scared._

_I'm so WEAK…_

_And it's dark._

_And it's cold._

_And I'm alone._

_And there's no one here to help me._

_If I was outside, Tifa would help me._

_But she can't protect me inside my own head._

_And this is where it's dark._

_And this is where it's cold._

_And this is where I'm all alone._

_Maybe Shinra was right. Maybe it's better for me to just die._

_Because then this cold dark place inside my head will be gone._

_And then everyone will see how small and weak I really am._

_And no one will ask me to save them ever again._

_And I can just curl up and be small and scared and weak and all alone._

…

Sometime during the fall, the man was asked:

Who will?

_Shut up. There are lots of people. Bigger better stronger people. Not me. I'm small and scared and weak. Shut up now._

_Leave me alone._

…

Sometime during the fall, the man was asked:

Who else is there?

_I don't know and I don't care!_

_It's not my business! There are a lot of people! Why does it have to be me?_

_Why does everyone always, ALWAYS have to turn to me?_

_Leave me ALONE!_

…

Sometime during the fall, the man was told:

Maybe this whole world and all of its people are crying, screaming, reaching out to YOU.

_I DON'T CARE!_

_Won't you just leave me ALONE?_

_I don't need it and I don't need them and I don't want it anymore._

_I can't do it but they'll keep asking me and then they'll look so sad when I'm not strong enough to save them!_

_AND IT'LL BE MY FAULT AGAIN!_

_Don't you see? Don't you understand that I'm not strong enough and I'll always fail and I can't ever save anyone and then they're sad and that makes me hurt and I DON'T WANT IT._

_I DON'T WANT TO BE HURT._

_So shut up and stop calling me back and let me die and let all the hurt go away._

…

The man was falling.

The man was crying.

_I'm not strong._

_I SWEAR I'm not strong._

_I'm a kid._

_I'm just a kid._

_I'M JUST A SMALL, WEAK KID WHO HAS TO BE PROTECTED BY EVERYBODY AROUND HIM._

_IS THAT SO GODDAMN WRONG?_

_And when there's no one there to protect me, see what I become?_

_And the only thing left in me is to cry._

_I'm too busy thinking about myself to love anyone._

_And no one would ever love a self-centered weakling like me._

_So right, Shinra._

_Why do you know so much?_

_Not a monster._

_Just a child._

…

The child hit the bottom.

And this story ended.

…XxX…

…

…

…

…XxX…

This is the story of a drop of rain.

The drop of rain was not always a drop of rain. When it was first born, the drop of rain was really a tear.

It was a teardrop on the cheek of a dark and beautiful woman, and that woman was leaning over a black abyss and weeping and screaming a name.

The teardrop rolled from her eye and down her cheek and came to pause at the tip of her nose. There the teardrop met others of its kind, and joined with them to grow bigger and heavier, and the next time the woman was ripped to pieces by a sob, tore herself to shreds on the cry of a name—

The teardrop fell free.

And fell.

And fell.

And fell…

After a very long fall, the teardrop landed.

It landed on the face of a dead and dreaming man.

And that was when the teardrop, still warm from the woman's body, became rain.

…

He turned in onto himself and found nothing but darkness there.

…

Sometime in the eyeblink aeons that he spent at the bottom of the abyss, it began to rain.

He didn't like the rain.

Because the rain should be cold. Everything else was cold. Bone-chillingly cold.

But the rain was warm.

He didn't like warm rain.

Because it burned his cold world like heat against frostbite.

Because—

_Because she's crying._

He turned in onto himself and found something tall and golden and paradise blue.

…

Who are you?

_Cloud Strife._

…But I'm Cloud Strife.

_No._

I'm small.

_You are a child._

And I'm scared.

_You are an infant._

And I'm weak…

_You are a fetus. Unborn, a fragile little creature, still inside the womb. Unborn, and unnamed. I am Cloud Strife. I am a man._

…Are you strong?

_Yes._

…Can you make it stop raining?

_No._

_Only you can._

WHY?

I don't want to!

It's hard, and I'm weak, and I'll never be able to do it, and then I'll fail and it will all only make it rain HARDER.

_Yes. You will fail._

I know I will! Because…

Because I'm weak…

_Of course you will fail._

And it'll only make the rain hurt more…

_Of course you'll fail sometimes, idiot._

_But did you ever even try?_

What's the point of trying!

I'm weak!

And I KNOW I'll fail!

_Then you'll try again._

But I'll just fail again.

_Then you try again._

But I'm WEAK.

_Yes._

_But you will become strong._

…What…?

_I'm sorry._

_We never got a chance. We went from child to adult overnight. We never went through it—that endless, horrible period of grasping and falling and failing again and again. We never got our chance to mature and to grow and to become a man. We had to do it all at once._

And now I'm weak.

_But you can be strong._

After I fail a thousand times.

_Then shouldn't you start now?_

…But won't it hurt…?

_Of course it will._

_It'll hurt. You'll be tired. You'll work and work until your hands bleed and your muscles scream and you'll fall on your ass so many times you'll think it's worn off. You'll push yourself to your limits and then push a little higher, and it still won't be enough. You'll work so hard you'll think you'd rather die than try even one more time._

_And then you'll stand up._

_And you'll try again._

WHY?

Why should I have to do all that?

By do _I_ have to endure so much pain?

Can't it be someone else?

_No one else._

WHY?

_Because you are a child._

_Because you are Gaia's son._

_Because you are a man._

_Because you are Cloud Strife._

_No one else_.

That doesn't make any sense.

_Grow._

_Learn._

_Then you will understand._

…

But…

I don't know how to start again…

_That's all right._

_Because someone has already given you a new beginning._

…I…

_Remember._

_It's not as dark as you think…_

…

_Eyes open._

_Breath in._

_It was raining._

_Very slowly, he stood._

_He blinked, again and again, waiting for even the smallest spark of light._

_Eventually, his eyes adjusted._

_He saw rock._

_Rock, extending upwards into the grey clouds, surrounding him in a circle of rain-slick and jagged walls._

Climb it.

_He swallowed._

"_And at the top?"_

You'll be able to stop the rain.

You'll be able to stop her tears.

…

_First try._

_He was half a foot off the ground before he fell._

_He stood and tried again._

…

_Third try._

_He was a foot and nine inches off the ground before his hand slipped on the rain-slick rock and he fell._

_He stood and tried again._

…

_Sixth try._

_He was three feet off the ground before he lost his footing and hit his head and almost passed out and he fell._

_He stood and tried again._

…

You are an infant.

…

_Tenth try._

_He was nine feet off the ground before a fragile rock crumbled under his weight and sent him tumbling down._

_His hands were bleeding._

_He stood and tried again._

…

_Eighteenth try._

_He was twenty feet off the ground before his hands slipped and he slid the whole way down the rock wall to land on jarred ankles._

_His hands and knees and face were bleeding._

_He stood and tried again._

…

You are a child.

_..._

_Twenty-fourth try._

_He was fifty feet off the ground when he couldn't find any more handholds and lost his grip in his frantic search and fell all the way to the ground._

_His hands and knees and face were bleeding and his leg bones were beginning to splinter._

_He was crying._

_He stood and tried again._

…

_Thirty-seventh try._

_He was eighty-two feet off the ground when his hands failed and he plummeted down a distance that should have been deadly._

_His hands and knees and face were bleeding and his leg bones were in pieces and the soles of his feet were slashed to ribbons._

_He was sobbing._

_He stood and tried again._

…

_Fifty-second try._

_He was one hundred and three feet off the ground when his blood-slick hands lost all grip on the rain-slick stones and he fell head over heels and nearly broke his neck on the ground at the bottom._

_His hands and knees and face and chest were bleeding and his leg bones were in pieces and the soles of his boots were in ribbons and his whole body felt as if he had been pounded into dust._

_He was screaming._

_He stood and tried again._

…

_Sixty-first try._

_He ran out of handholds again and just took a breath and hugged the rock wall and tried to think._

You are growing.

"_What?"_

You are maturing.

"_How long has it been?"_

Second.

Minutes.

Lifetimes.

Aeons.

"_I don't think I talk that cryptically. Don't you ever give straight answers?"_

No.

I am Cloud Strife. I am you.

I can only tell you what you yourself know.

"_I thought I wasn't Cloud Strife._"

You weren't.

You are growing.

_His bloody hands slipped on the rainy rocks._

_He fell._

_After landing, he spent a moment lying on his back, looking up into the warm rain and the midnight dark storm clouds._

_He did not weep. He did not scream._

_He gritted his teeth._

_He tore his shirt to shreds and bound his hands with the rags._

_He stood, and tried again._

…

You are a man.

…

Eyes open.

Breath in.

He stood, and his hands sought the rock wall, and he began to climb.

His body hurt so badly he couldn't even tell which bones were broken and his hands were bright crimson red and his face was wet and the tears there weren't just his own.

He was one hundred and thirty-eight feet off the ground, and he thought he might die.

_You cannot die._

"Says who?"

_The rain._

…

"_Until the day I die, you have to stay alive…promise me!_"

…

"WHY…

"Why does she always reach that hand out to me…"

_Because you are a child._

_Because she is a woman._

_Because you are a man._

"Why does the world always have to reach those hands out to me…"

_Because you are a man._

_Because you are strong._

_Because you are Cloud Strife._

He ground his face into the rock wall and screamed:

"WHY CAN'T I TURN AWAY FROM THOSE HANDS ANYMORE?

"WHY CAN'T I STAND THIS RAIN ANY LONGER?

"_WHY DO I HAVE TO DO THIS?_"

_Because you are a child._

"And I will do anything to not be hurt."

_Because you are Gaia's son._

"And the tears of the world hurt me more than anything."

_Because you are a man._

"And I'm strong enough to protect the ones I love."

_Because you are Cloud Strife._

"And I will do anything—

"ANYTHING—

"TO KEEP HER FROM CRYING ANYMORE!"

_There is something inside of you_

_that your child's mind was unable to comprehend._

_Set it free._

"I AM CLOUD STRIFE."

He threw himself into the abyss.

…

The air was whipping at his face, and he was falling.

"Give it to me."

_It's always been yours._

_The power to destroy everything._

_The power to save everyone._

_The power to stop her tears._

_Set it free._

_Your birthright._

_The fruit of your labor._

_The reward for your agony._

_Set it free!_

He turned in onto himself, and found something tall and golden and paradise blue.

And he knew it:

"_We're the same_."

_You._

_Your monster._

_Me._

_We're all the same!_

"_I AM CLOUD STRIFE!"_

And he seized hold of it with both hands and tore it up and out and wrenched it from the very depths of his soul and he was screaming screaming screaming and for the first time in his life he thought he might be really ALIVE as he felt something stirring beneath his skin and it was massive and golden and powerful and splitting his skin apart with the sheer LIGHT of it, and he arched in the middle of his fall and roared something between exultation and agony and then—

A single golden wing unfolded in the darkness.

And it flowed into him as smoothly and as naturally as an arm or a leg or a hand, and he ground his teeth and ripped it open and gripped down on the air itself and _pushed._

And again.

And again.

And again.

And then he stopped falling.

And then he was moving upwards, gaining altitude slowly, then quickly, and the warm rain fell slick and hard against his face and he opened his mouth between a roar and a laugh and there was light, light, light and warm and everything…!

…

She was up to her neck and drowning in the dark.

There was a black abyss beneath her feet and it had swallowed Cloud and eaten him alive and Shinra's arm around her waist was the only thing stopping it from eating her, too. But the vacuum was sucking and pulling on her anyway, fighting to drag her in, taking all from her that it could get.

It tore the tears from her eyes, because however she tried to bite them down, they just kept coming.

It ripped the breath out of her lungs, pulling it up her throat in the form of splitting screams.

And it was trying, trying _so hard_, to tear her heart out of her chest and send it down the shaft.

She remembered puppet strings, strands of Cloud, threads wound into and all around her vital organs, intertwined and entangled and inescapable. She felt the thread, wrenched taut around her heart, stretched to the breaking point and trying to hold too much weight and threatening to rip breath and pulse and _life_ clean free of her, just to appease the abyss's hunger.

It had eaten Cloud and it was going to eat her and then it would eat their friends and their family and then it would eat the entire world and it would sit in the black emptiness left behind and still it would hunger for more.

For the abyss was without end and without bottom, could not be satisfied or satiated, and even all the hope and belief in the world couldn't help Tifa find even a glimmer of light in that infinite darkness.

For the span of a single sob-choked breath, that darkness rose up and closed over her head.

Tifa Lockhart, once, had forgotten.

She'd been the best at forgetting. She'd even managed to forget the first thirteen years of her own life.

Tifa Lockhart could have forgotten the truth.

But Tifa, Tifa-plus-Cloud, Cloud's Tifa, _TIFA_—

She was done with forgetting.

And she would always remember the truth she had found.

_It's not as dark as you think…_

And there was a spark.

It was immeasurably small, impossibly fragile, the single faintest ember of a flame.

But it was there.

It was golden.

And it was growing.

The light swelled and grew and rocketed up the mining shaft, and with it came a sound, an earsplitting, undying roar that—for once—resounded with victory and power and the brilliant taste of life.

And it still sounded like her name.

"_TIFA!_"

She leaned against Shinra's restraining arm and screamed her soul out in one word:

"_CLOUD!_"

Then the darkness turned to light.

Cloud broke out of the top of the tunnel and his wing was glowing brilliant gold, and for a moment it was all she saw and she was almost swallowed in the glory of it, as radiant as the sun. But then it tucked and folded and Cloud was falling and Shinra threw her back even as she held her hands out for him and somehow it all fit together perfectly and he landed inside her arms.

And she sucked in a breath of horror, because he was dyed red in her embrace. He was bleeding from more cuts than she could count and his clothes were shredded even more than the skin beneath them. His left arm was bent and broken halfway down his forearm, his shoulder hanging a few inches too low, limp. She couldn't see but she was sure from the way he held himself that at least one of his legs was fractured and the right arm he raised had a rock shard buried an inch deep in his elbow and the face he lifted to hers was outlined in red from his broken nose and the long cut slicing through his left eyebrow.

He was drenched in blood, and he was smiling at her like everything in the world had just fallen into place, right there in her arms.

His fingertips brushed the side of her face, butterfly-light, impossibly delicate, halfway hesitant to believe she was real.

Then he choked and pressed his gashed palm hard against her cheek and gloried in the relief he saw in her smile, and he didn't even try to muffle the sob of joy that rose in his throat as he chanted two words over and over again, because they were the only two words that made sense in the world.

"Light, Tifa…" he groaned, half laughter and half sob. "Tifa, Tifa, light…!"

…

_And now,_

_at last,_

_a new story can begin._

…XxX…

_A/N_

_I'm going to confess, I had the outline for this chapter done in early September._

_He's been waiting for this for a long time._


	36. Time

**Review Replies:**

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WELCOME TO FAIR HELP CENTER

Chapter Thirty-Six: Time

There were no words spoken in that room.

There was a soft, bone-deep sort of relief in the way she clung to his fingers, one of the few parts of him not wrapped in clean white bandaging and plaster. There was a delicate sort of wonder in the way those fingers ghosted over her cheeks, the ends of her hair, the lids of her eyes. There was a tender kind of hope in the way they looked at each other, like children born anew and old ones who had seen too much; amazed and familiar, curious and knowing. The air in the room tasted of want fulfilled, hunger sated, thirst slaked, and a need that was no longer desperate, a desire no longer frantic, because there was no need to rush, take all the time you need, and they had all the time in the world.

Her smile was tender and his was wondrous and somewhere between them, time had stopped.

_No need to rush._

They had all the time in the world.

Together.

…

Waking up was the hardest thing he had ever done.

He would remember that he had dreamed.

He had dreamed an eternity.

And all through the dreaming, tiny fingers curled through his kept him in place.

He would remember that he woke because they were gone.

"Yuffie," he slurred, sitting up blindly. Then there were hands—large hands, a man's hands—on his shoulders, gently keeping him down. Through the dense fog curled around his senses, he recognized the deep baritone of Reeve's voice.

"Easy now, Mr. Valentine, easy. You shouldn't be moving yet, sir. It's best if you go back to sleep."

"Yuffie," Vincent mumbled, the word emerging garbled and halfway unintelligible. "Where is Yuffie?"

"She's right here, Mr. Valentine. She's perfectly fine. Both of your surgeries were a complete success."

The long-awaited words, couched deep in Reeve's lowest, most gentle tone, soothed Vincent to calm for a moment, time enough for heavy, thick sleep to rise around him again. He shoved petulantly against the folds of unconsciousness, struggling to retain awareness enough to speak, huffing his frustration when words turned to mush on heavy tongue.

"What was that, Mr. Valentine?"

He lifted his right arm—his veins as weighty as lead, the limb dead and heavy, taking all his effort just to shift. Grasping pointlessly in the air, he moved his fingers helplessly and forced his mouth to form a single word:

"Hand."

And, as if that word had taken all his strength with it, he arm collapsed back to his side, blackness welling up around him, pulling him towards sleep once again. And panic rose in him with the exhaustion, the fear of being dragged alone in that that darkness; the fear of falling, unprotected, no safety net to catch him and no line to take hold of. The abyss was there to claim him, and he had no light of his own to break free of its darkness.

Then he heard the far-off rumble of thunder that was Reeve's chuckle, felt his lead arm lifted and his wrist turned and felt the perfect delicate weight of small fingers settling into his palm.

And when Vincent fell asleep, it was with the slightest of satisfied smirks tweaking at his lips, and his fingers curled tightly around Yuffie's.

…

"…Um…"

"You're not supposed to be talking."

"I know, you did say that, but…"

"Yes?"'

"It's just…well…why am I doing this?"

Shinra sighed, drumming his fingers against his arm impatiently, and glared frostily at Aerith. She shrugged sheepishly, and he shook his head in disappointment.

"Miss Gainsborough, I seem to recall you agreeing to follow my instructions unconditionally as long as I helped you." He reminded her tersely.

She shifted uncomfortably on the rocky ground, fingers toying with the end of her braid. "I did, yes, it's just…I just don't see how sitting at the bottom of a mining shaft in a cave in a mountain in the middle of nowhere is going to help anything at all."

Shinra artfully arched a single eyebrow at her outburst. "If you'd prefer we speed up the process, I could trying throwing you down from the top, like I did to Strife. Of course, I can't guarantee your survival of such an endeavor…" When Aerith gave him a cold look in response, Shinra slumped wearily against the rock wall of the shaft. "Listen, Miss Gainsborough. If this process is going to work at all, I am going to require your absolute faith. Not everything will make sense to you, but I need you to trust me, and believe that my intentions will all become clear in the end."

Their eyes met through the darkness, lit only by a single electric lantern he had brought to the bottom of the shaft. Steel blue and bottomless emerald, she could almost taste the sincerity in him, for all that his voice was flat and toneless, his eyes empty and flat and without a spark of emotion.

She swallowed and whispered a final, tiny thought: "I just don't see why Zack couldn't be here."

His resulting snort was bitter and black, humorless. "Because," Shinra snapped, rising from his seat against the wall, "What we are doing here needs time, and copious amounts of silence. Your darling Fair can't keep his mouth shut for more than five minutes without exploding."

Aerith chuckled quietly, not even bothering to deny it. Zack would have admitted as much himself.

"Now quiet," Shinra purred, voice deepening and softening, his tone shifting until the words were hummed out of his chest, vibrating inside her ears, low and thrumming and soft. He paced up behind her, fingertips passing delicately over her eyelids, carefully urging them shut. "Close your eyes," he whispered, the hum of his voice filling the darkness of the mining shaft. "And listen. Not just with these ears," his hands slipped back to cover the shells of her ears. "But with the ones here, as well." He pressed softly against her temples, humming a wordless deterrent to her questioning noise. "Just breathe…and listen…" he ordered softly, and then his hands fell away from her, and Aerith was alone in the dark.

Her immediate, instinctive reaction was panic. Little light as the lantern had given, light is had been, and now she was robbed of the sense she relied upon most. The logical, human reaction was fear, an instantaneous fight-or-flight response to whatever horrors lurked in the dark.

But this blackness concealed only Shinra, silent and still as always, steel and dangerous and expecting her to follow his command.

So she refused to open her eyes, refused to disobey instruction that was intended only to help her; she believed that.

The panic came and went, and the darkness, the stillness, the silence remained.

Then she began to hear.

First was the rattle of her own breath, drawn unsteadily, scraping through her throat and into her chest, gasping quietly in her lungs.

Then came Shinra's breath, deep and low and steady, full and without impediment, without stress or excitement.

For a span of time that she would never know the length of, she sat in the dark and listened to them breathe.

And then she heard her own heartbeat.

A fast-paced beat of a drum, pounding against the inside of her ribcage and lungs; steady, swift; _lub-dup._

Then there was Shinra's—out of time with her own, much slower, much calmer, but just as steady, just as constant, just as clear; _lub-dup._

For a span of time that she would always swear was aeons upon aeons, she sat in the dark and listened to their hearts beat.

_Lub-dup._

_Lub-dup._

_DUM._

The sound of her own gasp was thunderous.

Dimly, she heard Shinra's heartbeat begin to race, his breathing grow shallow and fast with excitement, anticipation. But his heartbeat, so clear, so constant, was no longer what she sought. She scrambled to move from her seat, her legs long gone numb and dead under her, but she only had to get them out from underneath her and she could fling herself flat down on the rock, could grind her ear into the unforgiving stone and hold breath and still heart and wait and pray for the noise, once more.

Silence.

Then.

_DUM._

_DUM._

_DUM._

A bell tolling, a gong struck, a drum beat and beat and beat a green pulse on the inside of her mind.

A _heartbeat_.

She sat up in shock, eyes green and glowing brighter than the lantern in the darkness, and she turned them and cast her light on Shinra, who stood unflinching before her and drew her brilliance in.

"Mother of all," she breathed. "She's _here!_"

Then Rufus's laugh shattered the magic, broke the dream, drowned out that elusive heartbeat in a cacophony of noise, and the sound left an empty aching hole inside of Aerith, longing to hear that heartbeat again.

"Close, but not quite right," Shinra chuckled, moving to help pull her off the ground. "Not Her, but the next-best thing."

Aerith took his hand unsteadily, her feet unsure beneath her. Shinra caught her when she stumbled, and she pressed her face, suddenly too hot and feverish, against his cold throat.

He stood uncomfortably for a moment, one hand on her shoulder and the other patting her shoulder awkwardly. For three of her shuddering breaths, he held her carefully, supporting her slim frame with his own. Then she pushed her away, patted her shoulder once more, and nodded to the rope ladder rolled down the side of the shaft. "Can you climb?" When she nodded mutely, he tapped her chin upwards with his knuckles and smiled soothingly at her.

"Take the lantern," he ordered, handing the small electric light to her. "And go on up. Give your boyfriend a hug, do whatever. You'll want to stick close to Cloud and Tifa for a while; it'll help your mood." He pinched her cheek patronizingly, just to make her scowl at him. "Today was a good start."

Aerith nodded carefully, drawing in a slow, deep breath before giving Shinra her best grin. Taking the lantern from his hands, she paused at the bottom of the ladder, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Aren't you coming?"

"In a moment," he assured her, turning away. "I need to have a brief look about first."

Aerith shrugged one shoulder skeptically, but obligingly began to climb the ladder, the light hooked over her elbow as she carefully ascended the rope rungs.

As the glow of the lantern slowly moved up the tunnel, leaving Rufus in the dark, he fumbled furiously in his pocket. His fingers shook almost too terribly for him to grasp what he sought, but he finally retrieved his wallet from his pants, and had just enough control left to shove it into his mouth before the seizure took him.

And he fell to the ground, every muscle jerking beyond control, teeth clamping down into the leather between them, the thin wallet all that kept him from biting out his own tongue. Saliva dripped unchecked from the corner of his open mouth, his hands twisted into claws, and he kicked at the unflinching stone of the ground, gone beyond control.

It seemed an eternity before the episode was over, before he had enough strength to stop his shaking and slowly climb to his hands and knees. He spat out the wallet, then turned his head just enough to vomit on the ground instead of on his hundred-dollar leather wallet.

He regained his feet numbly, stubbing the ends of his finely shined shoes when he couldn't feel his feet well enough to tell where they were. For a few minutes, he leaned against the wall of the shaft, until he had enough sensation in his extremities to feel confident climbing in the dark.

When he reached the top of the shaft, there was light waiting for him there.

"If you needed to look around," Aerith asked, not looking at him. "Then why did you let me take the light?"

…

She rested her cheek on the cast around his leg and watched him.

He stared at her, fingers playing with the ends of her hair, lifting it and letting it fall through his fingers and repeating the process again, just to feel the glide of silk against his fingertips.

They let the silence wear on until the question that was eating at her could no longer be borne.

But she couldn't ask it—and when she spoke, it was a different question that fell from her lips.

"Everything's going to be different now, isn't it?"

His fingertips plied against the softness of her cheek, the contact like small bolts of electricity striking her skin.

"Yes," was all he said.

Then she looked away from him, and she almost couldn't stand to do it, to break his gaze, to ask the question that she just _had_ to know the answer to—

"Do you…still need me?"

The question was met with silence, thick and heavy and she could taste his thoughts in the air: _how can you ask me that?_

Then he spoke:

"No."

And her head whipped around, her eyes tore to meet his, because she couldn't believe what she had just heard, could not comprehend it to be true after all that they had just experienced, could not mentally take another instance of "I don't love you, Tifa…"

When she looked he was sitting up—and how had he done that without help, and he'd probably rip the stitches on his back if he didn't lie down again—and both arms, one encased in a cast and the other immobilized with bandages, rose up to catch her, to trap her in his eyes and he held her there as if he would never ever let her go.

His voice was low and rough at the edges, as if the words were torn from the deepest part of him, just three syllables:

"_I want you_."

Then he pulled her down and tilted her head just far enough and pressed his lips to her brow, soft and gentle and warm, held there long enough to brand her with his heat, and then he let her go and flopped back down on his bed.

Tifa blinked, dazed, and lifted a hand to the warm, wet mark on her forehead, and before her brain could quite catch up with her mouth she blurted—"Wait, that's all?"

A smirk the likes of which she'd never seen tweaked Cloud's lips, and he burrowed into his pillows and closed his eyes with two final words.

"For now."

_They had all the time in the world._

_Together._

…XxX…

_A/N_

_Well, this isn't obscenely late at all._

_Sorry about that—I'm not dead, just had a load of drama going down in my house with finals and other manner of mess. Then I somehow lost the thread of this and took ages to get back into a writing mood…anyway, I'm back now, apologize for my long break, and bid you all a good day!_

_I hope you enjoyed this pure-fluffiness chapter. Aside from Shinra. But he's Shinra, he lacks the ability to fluff._

_It's possible that you might not be able to review this chapter, since I deleted the character studies chapter and now everything's dropped down a number; if you feel the need to yell at me about the delay, feel free to shoot me a PM, or just review in spirit, because I'll love you anyway._


	37. Chapter 37

The world, it seemed, had paused in its turning.

Time had stilled, holding in a single, golden hour. The sun rose on the valley, and set. And still, dawn remained.

Surrounding mountains cast their valley into a dim. The light that came through was soft and without edges, a warm glow. The peaks were lost in mist and silver clouds; the fog rolled down into the valley in great thick rivers. The trees flowered, then bloomed. It rained the sweet fine rain of spring, then the strong clean storms.

The mists parted to admit the last two people, then flowed closed behind them. The valley accepted them into its paused peace, and the lull went on.

From the cliffs of the mountains, the sound of laughter in the valley could be heard.

A girl with trim black hair ran, and laughed, and wore short pants, unashamed of the thin scars above her knees. A man with black hair and a shining arm of steel watched her with clear eyes and taught his hand to move again.

There was a man who carried a sword the size of his body, and there was a girl who wore pink and sang for him. There was a man with only one eye, who watched the pair and held a hand to his head.

The fog ran down the mountainside to kiss the woman with the raven hair.

And the man with the blue eyes learned to walk again.

And time itself, it seemed, stood still for them. The mountains and the mist wrapped around them, tinted them in shades of gold and green. Grass grew in the barren waste of the earth. The smell of gunpowder and corpses began to fade among the flowers and the fruits. The edges of the world blurred. The mist turned lines to soft curves, turned the day to dawn and the night to dusk, turned the valley into warmth and dreaming to morning.

In the lull between breaths, the world had stopped.

Yet however long a breath is held, eventually, it must be released.

His phone rang.

The note pierced his head at the temples, making him wince. With long fingers, he seized it quickly, making a mental note to change his ringtone to something less high-pitched. He answered the call, held the phone to his ear.

"This is Rufus Shinra."

He listened.

"I see. Thank you. I'll be in touch."

He lowered the phone.

Aerith turned away from Zack, laughing. She looked over her shoulder at Shinra, searching for the source of the ring. As she watched his face, her smile fell away.

"Rufus? What's wrong?"

He looked up at her. Bloodless, his lips twitched faintly.

"The brothers are dead. Loz, Yazoo, and Kadaj - they're dead."

They sat in a circle, silent and still, caught in their own personal reactions.

Vincent curled his fingers together cautiously, careful not to shift as Yuffie sniffled against his shoulder. Aerith sobbed into Zack's chest, the man staring into the dirt between his feet silently. Tifa clutched at Cloud's hand fervently, unable to squeeze tight enough to reassure herself.

Outside the edges of the circle, Rufus sat, head in hands, still and silent.

After incalculable amounts of time, Vincent was the first to speak.

"Sephiroth is moving again."

Sobbing wetly, Aerith nodded against Zack. "B-but why the brothers?" She gasped. "_Why?_ They were just – just _children_…"

"They were too much like him," Cloud said. "Too much like me. Too much of that gene, too much of Mother – he still hates that more than anything. He's starting his genocide again. They were just the first to go."

Zack stroked Aerith's hair soothingly, his brow furrowed in thought. "But…Sephiroth hates _anyone_ with the genes, right? So why go for the brothers? Why not just start burning towns at random? He would've had to hunt them down, find a way of getting access to them, and then kill them without getting himself caught. Why bother?"

Vincent lowered his hands to his lap, spoke carefully.

"As Strife said – they carried too much of the gene. Sephiroth has already attempted his mass genocide, starting with all who possess even a meager amount of the blood and destroying the masses. He did so at the height of his strength, and failed. It would be logical to assume that this time he would begin with a different approach."

Stirring against his shoulder, Yuffie snuffled. "How do you mean, Vin? How's k-killing the brothers a different way?"

Cloud and Vincent locked eyes across the circle. Slowly, Cloud nodded.

Zack watched the look pass between the two, inhaled sharply as comprehension dawned. "You're saying," he began, holding Aerith a little tighter to his chest. "You're saying this time, he's starting with the men who carry most of the genes. He's going after his closest brothers. And – with the brothers gone – the one he'll be going for next is…"

Tifa clutched Cloud's hand tighter.

"He'll be coming for Cloud," she whispered.

His arm found its way around her waist, pulled her tight to his side.

"Stop acting like it's such a surprise."

The circle turned its focus to Shinra, who had finally lifted his head from his hands.

His lips were a thin line, a harsh gash in his face. As ever, his eye was impassive, cold blue. Yet there was a twitch in his mouth, an arch to his brow and a tightness around his eye that said volumes, that hinted at a fury boiling behind his translucent skin.

"We've known all along that he was coming for Strife. He has been hunting Cloud for the last twenty years – did we all expect him to suddenly stop? No. We knew this would happen. But we chose to ignore it, and waste away our time, and now – now, three innocent citizens are dead."

Aerith, wiping her eyes, pushed away from Zack's chest. "Now don't you say that," she warned, her voice still wavering with tears. "Don't you _dare_ act as if we all didn't deserve this rest – "

Rufus fixed his eye on her, a blue that went beyond cold, beyond ice, and became the blue of dead men. She swallowed the rest of her sentence.

"They were my people," he said. Quietly. Flatly. Aerith recoiled as if he had struck her across the face. "They were my people, and now they are dead. Tell me your rest was worth that."

She worked for breath, windless. He stared her down, face still and blank.

In a single, bone-shaking sob, she collapsed to her knees. He watched her go, holding out a hand to stop Zack when he moved to her. As Zack sank reluctantly back to his seat, Shinra watched Aerith. Her shoulders heaved, her hands over her eyes, tears pouring through her fingers. Slowly, he reached out with one hand, and lifted her chin until she stared him in the face.

She was flushed pink, her eyes swollen and red, mouth distorted by sobs. He watched her, appraising, before he spoke again. "My people," he repeated. "They were my people."

Her head went up and down, nodding furiously, tears flying from her cheeks.

Behind her, Zack's hands curled into fists on his thighs.

Shinra watched her face, hypnotized. "My people," he said again. "You understand."

She nodded, her tears spilling into his palm as her cheek brushed his hand. "I understand," she hiccupped. "I understand. My people – my _people_…"

Then Zack was on his feet, and he took a step forward to invade Shinra's space, looming over Aerith from behind, and growled, "Enough."

"No," Rufus said, not lifting his eyes from Aerith. "No, it's not enough."

The rest of the circle watched, not breathing, as Zack drew himself up. He filled the air, blazing, glaring down at the blonde president. "Shinra," he said, his voice a warning.

Rufus kept Aerith's gaze, watched the tears rise and fall down her cheeks. His right thumb brushed over her jaw, once, taking a drop of salt water with it. He taps her chin, a falsely comforting gesture. "Go do your breathing exercises, Aerith."

"She doesn't have to do anything." Zack lifted a foot to take another step forward.

Shinra's hand moved in a blur, into his jacket and out again, and then there was the barrel of a gun against Zack's breast.

Cloud and Vincent were already on their feet, Tifa and Yuffie close behind, and Zack stopped mid-step as Shinra finally met his eyes and they were ice, and every single person in that circle knew that he _would_ pull the trigger.

But Aerith was there first.

"_Noo,_" she screamed, and lurched up to wrap her arms around Shinra's, digging her fingers into his wrist and tugging helplessly, and he might as well have been iron in her grasp for all that she could move him. He wasn't looking at her anymore, he was looking at Zack, just staring and trying to say something with his blank eyes, and she clutched his arm and was sobbing in force again.

"Don't, please don't, no, Rufus, don't do it, please," she wailed, pulling at him, and he was wavering, his eyes on Zack but his body canting ever so slightly towards her, and that was enough. "Please, Rufus, please, don't do this, you don't have to, please don't, please…"

His hand trembled, and he broke, looked away from Zack to stare down at her, her face swollen and wet and pink, and he threw his gun to the ground with a curse.

Then he turned, and ran.

Zack collapsed to his knees, one hand to his chest, breathing fast and hard, while Aerith wrapped her arms around his shoulders and gasped into his hair.

Moving slowly, carefully, Cloud walked behind them and bent to retrieve Shinra's gun from the ground. Ejecting the magazine, he emptied the bullets into the dirt, watching them fall. That done, he tossed the empty gun to the ground, shrugging off the questioning looks. "I don't like guns," he informed Vincent, whose mouth twitched in response.

Tifa peeled Aerith away from Zack, wiping the tears from her cheeks, cradling Aerith's head in her shoulder as Zack found his feet unsteadily. Meeting Cloud's eyes over Aerith's shoulder, she nodded slightly. "Go on," she assured him. "We'll be all right."

He tilted his head, acknowledgement and gratitude, and started off after Shinra.

He found Rufus in a fetal position, only a few hundred yards from where they had been. Breathing hard, suit stained with grass and dirt, Shinra had his hands curled over his head, eye wide open and mouth agape, gasping for air, whole body shaking.

Cloud dropped to one knee, extended a careful hand. "Shinra?"

Shinra snapped at his fingers, his tremors growing, fingers digging red semicircles into his scalp. "Get away," he snarled, "Get away from me."

"No." Cloud withdrew his hand, rocking backwards to sit opposite the president. "I won't."

Snarling, Shinra covered his face with his hands. "Get away from me," he hissed. "Don't look at me…"

His fingers went stiff. A twitch ran up his arms and into his body, leaving stillness in its wake.

He uncurled in a whip, falling backwards onto the ground, and Cloud watched in horror as Rufus seized madly, foam dripping from his lips, eye rolling back into his head, legs kicking in the dirt like an upended beetle. Dumbfounded, Cloud rolled onto his knees, grabbing Shinra around the shoulders, wrapping him in the tightest grip he dared. Shinra's forearms jerked helplessly, struggling against Cloud's hold with abnormal strength, his head thrashing on Cloud's shoulder.

Cloud, stunned, held him still until the seizure passed and his eye closed, his face relaxing from its grimace. When the final tremors passed, he eased his grip on Rufus, and let the man slide limply to the ground.

He woke with a headache.

His clothes were stuck to his body by the remnants of old sweat. Dirt and sand had crept inside the fabric, chafing at the skin beneath. In his mouth, the taste of blood and bile lingered, bitter on his swollen tongue.

He lifted his face from his pillow, groaned. "I hate sleeping face-down."

"Sorry," Cloud said. "I didn't want to let you choke on your own vomit."

Slowly, every motion a hammerblow to his throbbing head, Rufus rolled onto his side. He stared at Cloud with his one good eye, drew a deep breath in. Weighing the words carefully in his mouth, he asked, "What did you tell them?"

Cloud folded his arms over his chest. "Nothing."

The unspoken _yet_ trembled between the two men, a whisper of silence in the air. Cloud leaned back in his chair, frowned at Shinra. His eyes were clear and cold, a deeper blue than Rufus's, and if he were a more poetic man, Rufus would have thought he could see all his sins reflected in Cloud's eyes.

He took a labored breath, began, "Listen, Strife – "

"No."

Rufus stopped mid-word, the sentence clogging in his throat, and gaped at Cloud. Cloud lifted his brows, stared Shinra down.

The moment stretched, stilled. Shinra fought for breath, tried to focus through the pounding in his head.

Cloud waited.

With a groan, Rufus rolled on to his back. His fingers dipped into his clothes, beneath tie and collar, reemerged with a short silver chain. With a jerk of his hand, he tried to rip it from his throat, but the chain held beneath his feeble tug. Growling, he brought his other hand up and clumsily undid the clasp, tugging the necklace away from his skin. Hand shaking from the exertion, he held the chain out to Cloud, a small key swinging pendulously before Cloud's eyes.

"Take it, damn you," Rufus swore when Cloud made no move towards the necklace. Slowly, Cloud extended a hand, allowed the thin silver to pool in his palm. Shinra turned away, covered his face with a hand. "There's a silver briefcase, next to the bed. Open it."

Cloud took a moment to consider the man on the bed before him. Then he stood, and retrieved the briefcase. Slowly, he sat again, placed the case between his feet, and unlocked it.

Shinra sat up carefully, turned to watch as Cloud opened the briefcase. Touching the case and contents carefully, Cloud pulled out a slim manila  
envelope, tore it open, and found a single sheet of black film.

"Hold it up to the light," Shinra ordered.

As the trailer's harsh fluorescent light filtered through the film, Cloud finally saw what he was looking at.

"It's called _glioblastoma multiforme_," Shinra muttered, watching Cloud's face. "The most aggressive form of brain cancer." Mouth open, Cloud stared in shock at the gaping white masses in Shinra's brain. "It began with the large mass in my right frontal lobe," Shinra droned on, his tone cool, his voice trembling. "Soon after, tumors developed in the left hemisphere as well. Before too much longer, that mass in my frontal lobe will cause enough intracranial pressure to kill me. If, miraculously, I survive without experiencing complete brain death, I will be left in a vegetative state, until the cancer destroys my hindbrain, and I die."

Slowly, Cloud lowered the brain scan to his lap, and looked up at Shinra. He spoke carefully. "How long?"

Shinra snorted, the sound too high-pitched and nasal, coming out a whimper. "How long? I was meant to die yesterday, Cloud. I was dead last week, last month, last year. The average prognosis is a year, maybe eighteen months. I made that last for three and a half years."

Cloud folded his hands, squeezed until his knuckles turned white. "Why didn't you tell us?"

The answering laugh was short and harsh. "Why should I? Would you have cured cancer for me, Strife? Would Fair have? No," Shinra shook his head, smirking to himself. "No, not after what I've done. Not after three years of surgeries and chemo and radiation and every treatment they would give me, not after wearing wigs and makeup like an old whore, trying to hide the weight I lost and the hair that fell out. No. Not after that.

"I spent three years waiting for my father to die. Three years of that bastard prancing about, healthy and stupid as you like, while I was fighting for every day that passed. Every day, I _knew_ that my father would outlive me, that he'd carry on while I died without ever having my chance to do something right. But finally, _finally_ he died, and I canceled all my treatment. I gained weight, waited for my hair to grow in. And one day, when I looked like myself again, I went to the Fair Help Center."

In a single, sudden movement, Cloud stood, and turned his back to Shinra. "You _canceled your treatment_?" he snarled to the wall.

"I had to," Shinra said. "The chemo was making me look sicker than anything else."

"Canceled treatment," Cloud hissed, "This coming from the man who lectured _me _– "

"Don't you dare make that comparison," Rufus overrode him. "Don't you dare. Don't think that your self-pity was _anything_ like what I've known. You were a suicidal child. I am a man who has accepted his fate."

"Fate can be changed."

Shinra laughed again, louder and bitter. "Not this fate, Strife. Where the fire goes, the ashes follow. Some things never change."

Cloud's shoulders trembled, tightened, slumped. His fists fell limp at his sides, and he turned to look at Rufus, his face soft and sad. He watched Rufus's eyes, carefully asked:

"What about Aerith?"

Shinra didn't flinch – and it was a credit in part to his self-control and mostly to his impending insanity that he didn't bat an eye – just shrugged and smirked at Cloud. "Can you blame a dying man for attempting one more conquest? I've heard the best way to go is in the arms of a woman."

Cloud stared him down for a moment, and sighed.

"You've got a hell of a poker face, Shinra, I give you that," he said, and turned to the door. "But you're a terrible liar."


	38. Chapter 38

He stepped out of Rufus's trailer, squinting into the light.

Looking down at his hands, he slid the black film of Rufus's brain scan back into its manila envelope, tucking the flap away, sealing it shut.

"Hi, Cloud."

Aerith was sitting at the foot of the trailer's steps, her arms wrapped around her knees. She lifted her face, revealing swollen eyes, cheeks pink and blotchy. Her nose had been running, her eyes still puffy from old tears.

He knelt on the ground next to her, curled his fingers carefully around her wrist. Slowly, he stood, tugged her to her feet. She came willingly, watching his face. For a moment, she stood unsteadily, wavering on her feet. Then she scrubbed fiercely at her face, rubbing with her palms and sleeves until her face was pink and dry. Cloud gave her a half-smile, and put the folder in her hands.

She turned it over between her fingers, looked up at him. "What's this? Did Rufus give it to you?"

He shrugged, taking a step back. She smiled wearily, making a halfhearted tsk with her tongue. "Cloud, stealing is bad, especially from the President…"

"Aerith."

She looked up at him, eyebrows arching, her smile thin and weak.

He tried to keep his face relaxed, spoke as calmly and tonelessly as he could manage. "He's not going to apologize, you know that."

Her gaze dropped, watching her fingers curl and move across the envelope. Eventually, wordlessly, she nodded.

Cloud reached out, lifted her chin with one knuckle. "He's never going to apologize," he told her again, watched the unshed tears swim in her eyes. "Never. And he's never going to ask for help, either." His hand fell from under her chin, tapped her shoulder lightly, just enough. She smiled again, fragile. He smiled back, with his whole mouth this time, and stepped aside so she had a clear path up the stairs to the trailer.

She turned to look at him. He lifted his hands, took another step back. Her gaze flickered between him and the door.

"You don't owe him anything, Aerith," he told her. She nodded, gripped the folder tighter. He nodded at the envelope, making her glance at it again. "But you've got enough sympathy for the devil –" she flushed pink, opened her mouth to protest, but he just kept speaking. " – And he could really use some right now."

He turned to go. Behind him, Aerith yelled.

"What are you going to do?"

He shrugged, and kept on walking.

"I need to talk to Tifa."

…

He found her holed up in the trailer they shared, lying in a loose curl on the small camper bed, on top of the sheets and awake. When he opened the door, her eyes flicked to watch him move around the trailer, but she didn't move. Smiling, he stood beside the bed, staring at her until she grinned back.

"Mind if I join you, miss?"

"I dunno," she said, her voice dead serious, her smile gleaming. "I don't think there's room for two here."

Cloud reached down, tucked an arm under her knees and her shoulders, and lifted her cleanly off the bed. She gasped, and clung to his neck as he toed the covers down and slid down onto the mattress. He lay on his back, letting her curl up between him and the wall, her head laying on his chest, her legs tangled up in his.

"There," he said, satisfied. "Plenty of room."

She laughed softly into his shirt, put a hand on his chest, listened to his heart beat under her ear. He covered her hand with his, stole it to gently kiss her knuckles. Closing her eyes, she sighed.

"Cloud," she breathed into his chest, as his free hand moved up and down her back. He hummed into her hair, questioning. She shifted carefully, tilted her head slowly so she didn't bump his nose with her skull, put her cheek on his shoulder so she could look up at his eyes.

"What do we do now, Cloud?"

He swallowed; she heard it in his chest. Freeing both his hands, he reached up to hold her face, his palms warm against her cheeks. His smile was off-color, made her heart twist in her chest. So instead she closed her eyes, felt his breath on her skin, waited for him.

Cloud ran his thumbs over her cheekbones, tugged her up gently, until he could bend his head and kiss her mouth. He kissed slowly, carefully, his rhythm soft and easy, achingly sweet. It made her chest twist all over again, made her brows crumple and she felt like crying. He gave her smooth shallow kisses, all lips and no tongue, just tasting and tugging at her mouth until she was clinging to him, fingers curling weakly in his shirt. She let him, let him guide her and set the pace for her, and she didn't pull away until she thought she was going to black out from lack of air.

She reared back, gasping for breath, felt the heave of his chest under her hand as he tried to catch his breath as well. He still had his hands on her face, his fingertips tangling into the hair at the back of her head, his thumbs moving over her cheekbones and jaw again and again. He was watching her eyes, pupils dilated until her irises were nothing but the thinnest ring of burgundy around a disc of black.

Tifa met his eyes fearlessly, that paradise blue, let it wash over her until it soothed away the ache in her chest.

"Now," he told her, "I'm going to kill him."

…

Rufus had taken a shower, shaved, combed his hair, and was trying to ignore the weeping woman in his trailer.

He was already regretting telling Cloud about his condition. Trust Strife to blab to Aerith immediately. Honestly, it couldn't have been five minutes between Cloud finding out and telling the girl. Shinra would be lucky if the whole country didn't know by evening.

And the worst bit, really, was that Strife _hadn't_ blabbed. He hadn't even told Aerith anything. No, that would have been too easy.

Cloud had made Rufus tell her.

And she still hadn't stopped crying.

There was a knock on the trailer door.

Aerith sat up, hiccupping, scrubbing at her cheeks. Shinra walked over to the door, brushing past her, trying not to look at her swollen face, her running nose, her swollen eyes. Lip curling, he opened the door.

"Well, speak of the devil," he said, and Cloud gave him a flat look.

"If I gave you a message, how fast could you get it spread nationwide?" He asked.

Rufus blinked, taking a second to think. "That depends, I suppose," he began. "What time is it? If it's not yet four, I can get it on tonight's evening news. I can definitely get it on tomorrow's morning report – "

"No," Cloud snapped, shaking his head. "No, I mean _nationwide_. I mean the head story of every news station, the front cover every paper, whole new threads on every bad internet blog. How fast can you get a message out there?"

Shinra narrowed his eyes, stared down at Cloud. Aerith appeared over his shoulder, snuffling still, but her face was dry.

"Cloud?" She rasped, her voice thin and hoarse. "What's this about?"

Cloud's eyes flicked to her, then back to Shinra.

"I need to get a message to Sephiroth."

…

_Welcome to the Station 7 News at five._

_Our top story tonight: President Rufus Shinra, who has been so conspicuously absent from the public eye since assuming his late father's office, has unexpectedly reemerged this afternoon with a mysterious press release. The same tape was released to all news stations nationwide, with the following message, which seems to refer to the recent murders of three high-security prisoners in the national penitentiary. Listen, as the President appears to address the killer, issuing what can only be described as a challenge._

"We're waiting for you, Sephiroth. No more games. No more dead men. Those three men were the last citizens of mine you will ever so much as touch. Do you hear me? He'll be waiting on your battlefield, at sundown tomorrow."

_The tape continues with the voice of an unidentified man, who authorities presume is part of the President's strange scheme._

"I'm waiting, Sephiroth. Come and get me."

_No information has been found on this 'Sephiroth,' or on where this confrontation will apparently take place. Sources assure us that this tape is in fact the voice of President Shinra, leaving us to ask: what on earth is he up to now?_

_Now on to Dave with the weather…_

…

Zack paced back and forth before the campfire.

"Dammit, Cloud, you had no right."

Cloud looked up at him, arched one eyebrow. Snorting, Zack shook his head. "Don't give me that. Yeah, yeah, I get it; it's you he's coming after. That doesn't mean you had the right to toss your hat in the ring without telling us, goddammit!"

Tifa lifted her hand in the air, waving it faintly. "If it makes it better, he told me."

Zack turned his scowl on her, and Aerith whispered faintly, "Not helping, Teef."

"Look," Cloud said, and the whole circle turned to look at him. "I get it. I do. But I think we were wrong about why Sephiroth killed the brothers."

Yuffie shifted irritably, already jittery from sitting still. "Whatcha saying, I mean we know, it's 'cause they were too much like that Gaia lady, right? That's what we all said last time we had our little fireside chat thing."

Laying a hand on her arm, Vincent stilled her. "What are you saying, Strife?"

Carefully, Cloud spoke, staring into the fire, his hands clenched between his knees. "We thought Sephiroth killed them because they were too close to the Mother." He inhaled carefully through his nose, let his hands relax until they lay limp. "But he murdered them because they were too close to _me_."

Tifa curled her hands around his arm, held him carefully. Covering her hands with one of his, he exhaled, shoulders slumping as tension faded from his back.

"Wait, wait, wait," Zack snapped, pacing back and forth. "Lemme get this right. You're saying Sephiroth didn't kill them 'cause they had too much of the Mother's genes – he killed them for having too many of _your_ genes? 'Cause that makes no freakin' sense at all."

"No," Cloud said. "No, not my DNA, my heart."

He looked up at his friends.

"Look," he began. "Sephiroth has been after me for twenty years. He _knows_ me. He knows the best way to draw me out is with the people I love." Tifa put her head against his shoulder. "Right now, that's not a lot of people. And most of you are right here with me. He murdered Loz, Yazoo, and Kadaj because he knew it would hurt me. Because he knows when I get hurt, I get afraid. And then I'll do any dumbass thing to keep from letting any of you get hurt.

"So I'm doing exactly what he expects. I'm giving myself up, letting him take me rather than take any more of you. And he'll come for me, and then we can end this."

Flopping down on a log, Zack put his head in his hands. "So, once again. Please explain to me how doing _exactly what he wants_ is in any way a good plan?"

Cloud closed his eyes. Inhaled through his nose. His brows furrowed, hands clenched into fists. He began to shake from head to toe, his whole body rippling. Tifa, her hand still on his shoulder, felt his flesh move beneath her fingers.

In the shriek of ripping cloth, the gold wing burst open from Cloud's back.

Cloud exhaled carefully, relaxing slowly. Opened his eyes.

"Because," he explained to the dumbfounded circle. "I'm not afraid."

Slowly, Tifa ran her fingers over the feathers of his wing, felt it flex and shift under her touch. Cloud leveled his blue eyes on her, deadpanned: "That tickles, you know." She giggled, tugged on a feather to make him smile. He flapped the wing once, buffeting her with air, sending her hair flying into her face, then tucked it away behind his shoulder, out of her reach.

As Tifa tried to pull her hair back into order, Zack whistled. "You been practicing that or what?"

Cloud shrugged, felt the wing shift with his back when he did, rolled his shoulders against the strange sensation. "A bit."

Vincent's voice cut into the lull. "Strife."

Blinking, Cloud turned to give Vincent his attention.

"Strife, what will you require from us in this fight? We will stand by you as allies, should you ask it." The mercenary carefully laced his steel fingers with his flesh ones, rested his head on the backs of his hands, and watched Cloud steadily.

Cloud nodded shortly. "I know, Vincent. But you know Sephiroth won't come to us if we've got an army lined up waiting for him. It'll have to be me. Only me."

Vincent nodded slowly, his eyes closed. "I imagined you would say as much, Strife. And if that is the route you wish to take, then – with the blessing of everyone here – I am going to take Yuffie back to Wutai."  
"_What?!_" was the reply from at least four of the people around the fire. Zack was on his feet again, Tifa and Aerith stared openmouthed, and Yuffie was already gearing up towards a full-blown temper tantrum.

Vincent held up his metal hand. "If I may continue?"

Slowly, the group fell silent, Yuffie last of all.

"Cloud," Vincent kept his eyes on the other man, addressing him carefully, his given name an oddity that no one missed. "Know that I count you among my friends. As long as this fight is yours, it will be mine as well." Cloud bowed his head slowly, accepting and waiting for the addendum. "That said, I must be honest. I am weary. I am weary of war and of blood and of loss. I have lost too much to Sephiroth already. I want to go home. I want to build a house, buy a dog, have a child. Please understand, I do not lack faith in you. I simply…am tired."

The silence after his speech fell thick and heavy. The softest cough broke it, Zack trying to find the right words to speak.  
"I once knew an old soldier," he began, hesitant and stumbling over the sentence. "He was – well, I don't know how old he actually was. But he…he never got to stop fighting. He just kept on, until one day it killed him. And he didn't even have a son." He held out his right hand, gripped Vincent's forearm when the mercenary closed his flesh-and-blood hand on Zack's wrist. Zack squeezed him tight, nodded down at him. "I don't want to watch you die like that, Vince."

The two looked at Cloud across the fire. Cloud smiled with half his mouth and nodded once, and just like that, the tension was gone, as if everyone had exhaled at once.

"I'm kinda really concerned about how no one mentioned the _have a kid_ part of this plan to me," Yuffie squeaked, and then the whole circle was laughing. Rufus glared at them.

When the chuckles faded, Cloud passed a hand over his face to wipe the last of his grin away. "Zack," he began, watched the soldier sober quickly at his tone. "I meant what I said before. It's got to be just me waiting, or Sephiroth won't come. You can't be with me for this one. I'm going to ask you to take Rufus and Aerith far out of this valley, and hole up until the dust settles. Can you keep them safe for me?"

Zack's face fell, disappointment visible in every line of his expression, but he nodded. "You know I'll only be a phone call away if you change your mind, man." Cloud nodded, the edge of his mouth curling up slightly. "I'll take good care of Tifa for you."

Cloud winced, rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly. "Actually…"

"What," Zack groaned, already knowing what Cloud was about to say.

"I'm keeping Tifa with me," Cloud admitted, ducking his head as Zack puffed up in anger.

"Man, the _hell_? So no one gets to stay with you except for the _one person_ who you ought to most keep out of Sephiroth's line of fire?"

Cloud flinched under each word until Tifa kicked at Zack's kneecap, shutting him up.

"Give it a rest, Zack," she snapped, squeezed Cloud's shoulder. "I'll be a ways off, out of Sephiroth's sight. And even if he sees me, I don't count as a threat to him, not like you do. If it makes you feel better, you can say I'm there to call for you if things go sour. 'Kay?" She lifted her foot, prepared to kick again.

Grumbling, Zack subsided, letting Aerith pull him down by his hand. Cloud looked up at his friend, smiled sheepishly. "I know you hate missing a fight, Zack," he said. "But I've got to have her with me this time."

…

It almost didn't feel real.

There had been so many goodbyes that just turned into reunions, so many final showdowns that ended up being just another battle in an unending war. It was almost familiar, almost routine. None of them could quite convince themselves it was real.

But there they were, Vincent and Yuffie with their belongings packed into duffel bags and slung over their shoulders. Zack clapped Vincent on the shoulder, and Cloud shook his hand with a smile. Aerith cried when she hugged Yuffie, but Tifa just smiled, and Yuffie was grinning – well, Yuffie was _always_ grinning. There was no sense of solemnity or finality. Tifa felt woozy, her head full of smoke, reeling.

And then, almost before she realized it, they had climbed into that airship, and just like that, they were gone.

She swayed, disoriented, until Cloud put his strong right arm around her shoulders and steadied her. She gripped his waist, for balance, his sword harness rubbing against the outside of her arm, and looked up at him, not sure of the expression on her face. His eyes softened at the edges, smiling without his mouth, and he touched her lower lip with the tips of his fingers.

"I'm right here," he told her, and she nodded, her head clearing a bit.

Then it was Rufus, Zack, and Aerith vanishing in a similar blur, in the squeal of tires on dirt as Shinra's retinue of trailers and RVs rolled out of the valley. Tifa waved faintly at the retreating trucks, watching the cloud of dust vanish over the mountains. Cloud let her lean on him silently, holding her up as the valley slowly fell silent, the two of them standing alone.

She sighed, pushed her shoulder into his chest. He squeezed her gently, his arm a grounding weight on her shoulders. "It's getting late," he said. "Let's get you safe."

They walked out of the center of the valley, and she let him guide her to a familiar cave in the side of the mountain. She chuckled, slipping out from under his arm to lean against the cave wall. "You sure you want me to hide in here? I might fall down a mining shaft."

His laugh was loud and low, a rumble of thunder in the cave's echo. He moved in front of her; put his palms on either side of her face. Flushing, she shifted against the rock wall, hardly noticing how the stone chafed at her skin and poked her in the back.

Carefully, she looked up at Cloud. "I'm in danger down here, aren't I?" she asked.

Cloud's mouth twisted, his chin ducking slightly. Closing his eyes, he sighed heavily. "Probably, yes. Yes, you are. If Sephiroth sees you, he'll try to hurt you, to hurt me."

"Okay," she said, and lifted a hand to touch his hair. "It's okay. He can't touch me."

He put his face in her throat, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his sword harness. "Sorry," he told her clavicle. "Sorry, I know it's stupid and selfish and dangerous, but I had to have you here. I had to be able to see you, or I'd be out of my mind worrying."

She pulled his head out of her neck, held his face between her hands. His eyes were wide and honest, deep as the sky. "You make me strong," he told her, earnestly. "If it's to protect you – I can do anything."

She kissed him then, hard. His mouth opened under hers, obedient, letting her push into him. She could taste coffee on his tongue, mouthwash on his teeth. She breathed into him, pushed herself into him, tried to give him everything she had. Her drive, her faith, her fearlessness – she wanted him to take it all.

He broke away, breathing hard, his hands curled into fists beside her head, his arms trembling. "Okay," he panted, touching his forehead to hers. "We'll be okay. We won't let him hurt us."

Tifa kissed him again, smiling against his mouth. "Go," she told him. "It's nearly sunset."

He nodded against her, stepped back with a sight. And just like that, his whole body shifted; his shoulders went back, his chin arched up, his arms tensed tight. His eyes were hard when he looked out over the valley – a general over the battlefield.

"Cloud," she called to his back. His head turned, lifting an eyebrow at her. She smiled at him.

"Win."

He grinned at her, real and honest, teeth gleaming in the light, and it punched the breath out of her, filled her chest with wonder.

"I will," he told her, and then he stepped onto the battlefield.

…

She saw the first star when it came out.

Then the second.

Then the third.

She lost count after that, when the sky went from blue to red to purple, when the heavens began to fill with the pinpoint lights of distant suns, when the moon rose over the mountains.

Shinra's almanac had put sunset at 6:30 PM. At 8:27, Cloud was still pacing the valley floor, and Tifa was counting stars in the black-blue of the night sky.

At 9:12, Cloud ran out of patience.

He walked to the cave, Tifa meeting him halfway, standing on the valley floor, still staring up at the night sky.

"You see anything?" He demanded. "Anything at all?"

"Nothing," she told him, putting a hand on his arm. "Cloud, I don't think he came."

Cloud dropped into a squat, holding his head in his hands. Groaning, he rumbled, "I don't _get it_. He spends twenty years trying to get to me and I lay myself out like a sitting duck and what – suddenly he's not interested?"

Kneeling next to him, Tifa stroked his hair gently, until he dropped his hands from his face. "It's all right," she hushed him, his shoulders slowly relaxing under her. "We're all right. We'll call Zack and Aerith, and Shinra can help us figure out what to do next. All right?"

He lifted his head to look at her, cupped her face in one gloved palm. "All right," he whispered. "Thank you."

She touched her lips to his forehead, pulled her phone from her pocket and put it in his hand. His mouth twitched faintly, the ghost of a smile, and he stood up, flipping open the phone.

Still sitting, she watched him dial, licking his dry lips as the phone rang in his ear. "Put it on speaker," she told him, and he complied, dropping the phone slightly so she could hear the dull ringing of the other end.

It rang once, twice, three times, and then there was the click of the phone being answered.

"Zack?" Cloud called when the line stayed silent. "Zack, you there? Sephiroth never showed. We need to regroup and figure out our next play. How's the status up there?"

There was a chuckle on the other end of the line.

And Tifa's blood ran cold.

She saw the recognition and the horror dawn on Cloud's face, put a hand over her mouth to silence her scream when Sephiroth cooed to Cloud through Zack's phone.

"Hello, Cloud."

…


	39. Chapter 39

"_Hello, Cloud."_

Cloud snarled like a rabid animal, his breathing raw and erratic. "Where is Zack?"

"_He's where you left him. I doubt he got very far, anyway. Not with injuries like _that."

Tifa's hands clenched over her mouth, biting down a cry. Her vision blurred as hot tears rose, burning her eyes like acid. Cloud wasn't looking at her – he was staring into space, teeth bared and fists clenched, fighting not to crush the phone in his grip. "Aerith, and Shinra?"

"_Oh, they're with me_," Sephiroth cooed, a slick endearment through the phone. "_Yes, we're having all sorts of fun. Isn't that right, Aerith dear?_"

There was a strangled scream.

Tifa bit the inside of her hand so hard she broke the skin, her mouth filling with blood.

Cloud _howled_.

"I will _kill you!_" He roared, shaking from head to toe. "I will kill you and I will make you _beg for death on your knees _before I do. Do you hear me, Sephiroth?!"

Sephiroth laughed at him, high and lilting, and Aerith screamed again. "_Did you really think I would fight on your terms, Cloud?_"

The only response was the sound of Cloud's teeth grinding together. He closed his eyes, brow creasing in agony, lip curling in fury.

"_Tomorrow, you're going to come to me. Alone, and unarmed. I will be watching you. If I see a weapon, or another human being, I will kill one of these two. If you don't come, I will kill them both. And then I will scour this country until I find your little girlfriend, and I'll kill her. Nice and slow._"

Cloud's eyes snapped open, fixed on Tifa. She shook her head frantically, hands still gripping her mouth like a vise, tears pouring down over her fingers. Hands trembling, Cloud breathed out through his nose, fighting for control.

"_Do we have an understanding, Cloud_?"

He hissed into the phone, speaking through his teeth. "If I come – "

_NO_, Tifa screamed inside her hands, the word catching in her throat, a choking sob.

"Will you let them go?" Cloud finished, his eyes still on Tifa.

The reply was swift and smooth. "_Of course I will. But mark me, Cloud. If you fight me, if you struggle, if you do anything but smile and thank me for granting you death – I will kill them all._"

Cloud looked at Tifa.

She was sobbing into her hands, cheeks wet and the tears still coming, looking up at him and shaking her head as hard as she could, hair flying around her head. She was begging.

He closed his eyes.

"Where do I meet you?" he asked, and his voice was empty.

"_Go home, Cloud._"

And the line went dead.

"You _can't_," Tifa screamed, leaning forward to grip at his clothes, her fingers digging into his pants leg. "You can't, you just _can't_, we'll figure something out, Cloud, oh god, Cloud, don't do this, _please_."

His forehead creased, his mouth twisted, and he put his hands to his face just before he sobbed.

She dragged him down to his knees, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and cried into his shirt, and he kept his hands over his face and wept and wept, great shuddering gasps that shook Tifa with him. "Oh gods," he gasped, "Oh gods, not again."

And then his head snapped up, so fast he almost hit Tifa, and he looked at her in horror, swollen eyes wide.

"Zack," he said.

She stared for a moment, uncomprehending, her brain shorted out by grief and horror.

He gripped her shoulders and shook her hard.

"He might still be alive!"

Comprehension dawned on her face, horror riding hard on its heels. She clutched at his arms, her mouth working, struggling for words, until she gasped out: "Go."

Cloud almost protested, but she overrode him, crying, "You're faster – I'll be right behind you. Cloud, find him. _Go_."

And then he was running.

…

It wasn't hard for Cloud to find Zack.

Zack had been waiting, five miles up the mountain road, in a trailer with Rufus and Aerith. The trailer was still there, lights on and door open, undisturbed.

From there, Cloud just had to follow the blood.

Zack was a few hundred yards off the road, sitting propped up against a tree. There was scarlet dripping from his lips onto his chin, then to his chest. His left hand was curled into his shirt, over his stomach, and there was blood staining the cloth, blood seeping between his fingers, just so much fucking blood.

Cloud's knees hit the ground.

Distantly, he heard his own voice say, "God, Zack, no."

Zack coughed, a spray of crimson, and his eyes fluttered open.

"_Zack_," Cloud screamed, and then he swallowed and put his hand on Zack's; tried to peel it away from his stomach. Zack's fingers tightened, digging into shirt and the split skin beneath, and the soldier grimaced at the pain.

"Let me see, Zack," Cloud ordered, his voice still far-off, toneless in his ears.

Coughing again, Zack shook his head weakly, lifted his right hand to shove uselessly at Cloud's shoulder, pushing him away.

"Zack, let me see the wound." His voice was so still it frightened him, but his hands were beginning to shake, fluttering uselessly over Zack's abdomen.

"No," Zack rasped, clenched his fingers.

Cloud's mouth trembled. He pressed his hand over Zack's, trying to apply pressure but just shaking shaking shaking, and even though Zack was the injured one, Cloud didn't think he'd have the strength to pull Zack's hand away if he really tried. "Zack, just – let me help you."

"No," Zack said again, a little stronger, and blood dripped down his chin.

"Goddammit," Cloud said. "Goddammit. Let me help you, I can fix this, I can fix it, you'll be all right. You won't die, you'll be all right. I can make it all right if you just _let me_, Zack, damn you."

Zack smiled with that bloody mouth. His left hand stayed on his wound, red pulsing steadily between his knuckles, but his right came up, slow and shaking and barely strong enough, to curl around the back of Cloud's neck and pull him down, until their foreheads pressed together.

And Cloud _sobbed_, a deep, horrible heave that shook him down to his _soul_, and gasped, "Don't die. Please Zack, don't die. Not you. Please. Zack, please."

Smiling thinly, Zack dragged in another breath, coughed it out, a thin, weak wind against Cloud's face that splattered his chin and cheek with blood, blood that mixed with the tears coming bitter and hot on Cloud's cheeks. Cloud wept helplessly, shaking uncontrollably, his fingers curled tight and desperate in Zack's shirt.

"Why you," he begged. "Gods, why you, I can't – I can't take it, Zack, not now, not you, too."

Hand falling from Cloud's neck, Zack slumped against his tree. Crimson stained his teeth as he fought for words. "He made," he began, sucking in another breath, wincing. "Aerith choose. Which of us…to keep."

Cloud touched his shoulder. "She chose _Shinra_?"

Zack's laugh turned into a cough in his chest, his red mouth twisting up in pain as his body shook. "No," he gasped. "She chose…me. That's why…Sephiroth…killed me."

And Cloud was shaking again, his tears gone dry, burned up, and he said, "That son of a bitch," and he said, "I will _kill him_."

Zack's weak grin turned into a frown, clutched frantically at the front of Cloud's shirt. "Shinra," he began. Rattled in another breath. "He _begged_."

"For Aerith to choose him?"

"No." Zack's head lolled back and forth, a feeble mockery of shaking his head. "To die. He wanted…wanted Sephiroth to…let me live. Got on his…his freakin' knees…begged to…die instead."

"Okay," Cloud said. "Okay, that's enough. Don't talk anymore, okay? You can tell me later. I'll fix you up and then you can tell me everything. Okay?"

Zack rolled his eyes, snorting, and then there was blood running from his nose, too. "Don't be…stupid. Got a…few minutes…tops. Freakin' hurts."

"No," Cloud said, and the tears rose again. "No, you gotta get up. We've gotta save Aerith, man. You're not gonna just leave her, are you?"

Eyes drifting closed, Zack coughed up another dribble of blood. "You gotta…look out for her…for me. And tell her…love her. And she should…be happy. You tell her that. 'Kay, Cloud?" Zack's eyes opened, and he was crying for the first time, irises gone misty and unfocused, and the tears cut pale tracks through the blood and dirt on his cheeks.

"Yeah," Cloud sobbed, and goddammit, he couldn't see, his vision hot and fuzzy with tears, and he couldn't see Zack's face, and _no, god, please not Zack._

"Aah, hell," Zack sighed, and Cloud choked between a sob and a laugh. "Didn't want…to die like this. Too young. Shoulda been…some crotchety old fart. Dammit. Dammit, didn't…didn't wanna die."

"Zack," Cloud begged, clutched at Zack's shoulders, shook him hard when Zack's eyes went unfocused and dim. "Oh god, Zack, you stupid fucking hero. Don't die. Don't die, not today, not yet – god, Zack, not you. Not like Angeal, right? You said – you said you didn't want that. Zack, you can't die yet. What about the sword? Who's gonna take the sword, Zack? There's just you. There's just – oh god, Zack, there's just you! Zack, you don't have a son."

And Zack's eyes fought back into focus, on Cloud's face, misted with pain and tears but _focused_, looking right at him because this was the last thing he was ever going to see. So he smiled again, and the blood flowed down his chin, down his throat, over his fingers and his stomach and his chest, just blood everywhere until Cloud's vision was red and Zack.

Zack's left hand lifted, and Cloud stared at it instead of the gaping hole in his stomach, and Zack touched Cloud's cheek with crimson fingers.

"Don' needa son," he mumbled, blood and pain slurring the words, his eyes fighting to stay on Cloud, the last thing he was ever going to see, his fingers leaving red shaking tracks on Cloud's face.

"Don't need a son," he repeated, smiled.

Cloud Strife. With the stupid blonde hair and the stupid blue eyes, like sunshine and the sweet summer sky. The last thing Zack Fair was ever going to see, and dammit, he was okay with that.

"Got a brother."

His hand fell to the ground.

And Cloud screamed.

…

He was still kneeling there when Tifa found them.

Slowly, she reached out and closed Zack's eyes.

Cloud breathed out.

…

One hand on his shoulder, Tifa said, "Cloud. We should bury him."

He stood, legs full of pins and needles as blood rushed back into his lower body. "No," he said, took a few shaky steps away from Zack's body. "No, not him."

When he started to walk away, Tifa didn't follow. She stayed by Zack's side, called out after him. "Where are you going?"

Cloud kept walking, his stride getting steadier, stronger. "I think there's a can of gas in the trailer."

…

He washed the blood from Zack's body with gasoline.

"Cloud, I'm not sure this is what he –"

"Don't." He soaked Zack's clothes, the grass around, the tree trunk smeared with his blood. "Just don't."

Behind him, Tifa was silent. Eventually, he heard her walk away, footsteps crunching through fallen leaves and brush. He didn't turn around.

He folded Zack's hands over the hole in his stomach. Straightened his shoulders, put his feet together. Spread the gasoline in a circle, ten feet in diameter, soaking trees and leaves and grass and all the fresh new growth of spring.

When the can was empty, he let it fall to the ground.

A hand touched his shoulder. He turned.

Tifa held up a matchbook, her face blank. When he took it from her fingers, she pushed past him to kneel next to Zack. Whatever she said, she whispered it too quietly and too quickly for Cloud to understand, still standing yards away, outside his circle of accelerant.

He wasn't really listening, anyway.

…

He wanted there to be some meaning to it. The matchbook was from a diner fifty miles back in the direction of Edge. The gas had probably been from a fill-up joint near there. The can was made of red plastic. He didn't know what kind of tree Zack's body was propped up against. He didn't have any words to say.

It wasn't until he was trying to line up the striker of the match with the strip of sandpaper on the back of the matchbook that he realized his hands were shaking.

Tifa stood behind him, wrapped her arms around his, pinned his elbows to his sides. It felt like she was holding him through sixty layers of clothing, far-off and muted, just faint pressure and only the lightest hints of warmth. He felt them vibrating against each other, thought she was shaking around him. Eventually looked down at his hands and realized he was the one trembling.

"Cloud," she said into his shoulder. "Someday, you're going to wish you had said something."

He wanted there to be some meaning to it.

Grinding his teeth together, he struck the match, vicious, the flame kissing the tips of his fingers. He never felt the burn.

He watched the fire work its way down the slim wooden shaft of the match, watched his fingertips turn red and blister. Instead his eyes focused behind them, where he could see Zack on the other side of his hands.

He wanted it to _mean something_.

"I loved you," he told the match. "My brother."

And then he threw it to the ground, watched it find accelerant and spread, and then everything was in flames.

…

Tifa pulled him away, he knew. Tugged him away and out, out of the fire as it grew and spread, until it wasn't just his gas-soaked circle, until it wasn't just the stretch between Zack's body and the road, until the entire mountainside was going up in flames.

He didn't remember sprinting the five miles back down into the valley, barren compared to the tree-covered slopes of the mountains, didn't remember ducking into their now-familiar stone cave, seeking shelter where there was nothing to burn, but he did remember the fire, the way it filled the cave mouth with orange and cast Tifa into red, her eyes unfathomable dark in the firelight.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but it had probably been hours by the time she spoke. She didn't look at him, just watched the fire rage across mountains.

"It's going to burn the entire valley," she said. "Everything that only just started to grow."

"Good," he said. She still didn't look at him, just closed her eyes.

"I wish it would burn more," he told her, staring at her while she put her head on her knees. "He deserved more. More should've burned. Not just this."

She looked at him then, her cheek resting on her knees, her eyes black and her skin painted crimson. "Cloud," she said. "I don't think he would've wanted the world for his pyre."

Cloud shook his head, turned to watch the fire as it ripped across the brush and the trees, left everything behind it in shades of black and grey. "No," he agreed. "He would've wanted it to rain."

…

"I'm sorry," he said, lying on his back and staring up at the cave ceiling. "I just. I just wanted to mark it somehow. His death. It should've been. Louder. I don't know. Everyone should know. The whole world should be crying. It shouldn't just. _End_. Not like this."

"Cloud," she whispered. "You and me. _Humans_. We're mortal. You know that, right?"

He closed his eyes.

"Yeah. I know. I just. Wish we didn't have to be."

For a long time, there was silence, and the crackle of the fire outside.

"Cloud."

"Tifa?"

"Look outside. It's raining."

…

Then, Cloud cried.

Tifa crawled over to him, held his head against her chest, made soft noises into his hair while he bawled, clutched at her and pushed her away by turns, screamed and sobbed into her shirt until it was soaked through to her skin, and it was hours yet before he hiccupped and sniffled his way into sleep.

Outside the cave, the rain slowly, slowly, put the fire out.

…

He woke up the next morning, eyes swollen and crusted. His face felt dirty and stiff, and Tifa's shirt was cold and damp under his cheek. His neck and back were sore, and even though the daylight outside told him he'd been asleep for hours, he was exhausted, wanted to roll over and go back to sleep for another few hours or few days or maybe just forever.

Tifa's hands pulled through his hair, soft, slow.

"He saved you, didn't he."

Cloud whimpered, tugged his hands in close to his chest like he could keep the words from getting inside, from touching the sucking wound inside him.

"It was Zack who hired me, you know. Over the phone. I never went to college, didn't have a medical license, couldn't even make it into the city for an interview – but he said he liked the sound of my voice. Hired me right then and there."

She ran her nails over his scalp, her hands down the back of his neck, her fingers over his shoulders, stroking, coaxing. "And then I when I actually came to work – can you even imagine what all that must have looked like to him? On my first day, I beat up one of his patients, gave the same one a panic attack, fainted on the job, and started sharing a bed with you. And he never said anything against me. Just took care of me when I got hurt, helped me when I needed help, gave me the space I needed to deal with everything that was happening."

Dammit, the tears were coming again, hot and bitter, sour and foul tasting in his mouth. He was shaking again, deep tremors that went up and down his body, heaving. Tifa kept talking, her voice low and thick and steady, heavy and unyielding in his ears.

"He was like that, wasn't he. He didn't push, didn't force us into anything. But time and time again he helped, wiped up our messes and cleaned us up when we got ourselves dirty. He was just always there. He was so good, Cloud, he was just _good_."

He gasped, messy, nose running and sobbing again, thick and hot, fingers digging into Tifa's back.

"I think he was happy, Cloud. He built you an asylum. He built you a _home_. That's all he ever wanted, I think. Not to be a soldier, not to be a war hero, not even to be remembered. Cloud."

Her fingers were on his face now, under his chin, dragging him up. He met her gaze with tear-fuzzed vision, her eyes dark and warm and wet, crying quiet and soft. She shook him, just a little.

"Cloud, he _saved_ you. That's all. _That's enough_."

He kissed her then, hard and artless, smashing the tears together on their cheeks. She sniffled into his mouth and he sobbed into hers, his fingers digging into her hair and gripping, her hands stroking soft over his shoulders and then curling into his shirt, clutching tight. He could taste the tears between them, salt water and bitterness, like all the sick clutching sorrow in his chest is pouring out his eyes, Tifa was pulling it all out of him, all that he had to give.

When they broke apart, he lifted his hands and wiped his face, scrubbed at the crusted tear tracks and the dirt on his cheeks. Tifa rubbed at her eyes, swollen and red to match his, gave him the smallest of smiles as they both tried to clear the evidence from their faces.

Cloud didn't expect the smile that tugged at his lips, hesitant and frail, but curving his face nonetheless. He coughed out a chuckle, still half a sob, said, "He really was good, wasn't he."

"So good," Tifa agreed, turned her face and muffled a giggle in her own arm. "He was the best, Cloud, really."

"Yeah," Cloud agreed, and stood up.

His legs were shaky underneath him, but he managed to stumble to the cave entrance. Ashes floated by, stirred by a slight breeze, but the fires were gone, drowned by the rain.

Cloud breathed carefully, deeply, the familiar scent of flame and charred wood, and lifted his eyes to the mountaintops.

"He's in Nibelheim," he said.

Tifa stepped up behind him, put her hand on his back. "Cloud?" she asked, faint.

"Sephiroth. He told me to 'go home.' He's in Nibelheim."

He turned, looked at Tifa. Her face was still swollen, dirty from the cave and the ash on the wind, her hair tangled and filthy, her clothes singed and torn.

She was so, so beautiful.

"Tifa, if I don't go, he'll kill Aerith and Shinra. He'll find you. I won't be able to hide you from him. He'll kill you, too. And I won't be able to protect you."

He put his fingertips against her mouth when she started to speak, silencing her. "I forgot. I got too proud. I forgot this isn't about him and me; this isn't about some grudge or man-on-man showdown. He's a _murderer_, Tifa, and he had to murder Zack before I remembered that. This isn't about me. This is about _everyone_. Every soldier who died, every person in Midgar that he _will_ kill, Tifa, every single one. This is bigger than me. But I've got to do it."

She gripped his wrist, tugged it away from her mouth so she could speak. "Cloud, letting him kill you isn't going to save all those people."

"I know," he said, and touched her hair, pushed it away from her face.

"That's why I need your help, Tifa. I need you to save me one more time."


End file.
